The Important Stuff

A Beginning

A story has to begin somewhere. If you've ever played a RPG then you know that many stories start in taverns. How else are you to gather...

Thursday, January 25, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.8


Cain brushed off his hands as he turned away. The crocodiles would do their job. Now he just needed to finish off the one who had pulled the trigger then they could put the whole debacle behind them. As he approached the area where he’d left the injured man he the sound of flesh as it tore reached his ears. The crack of bones as powerful jaws crunched them. Cain slowed, the wind was at his back so he couldn’t tell what predator had done his work for him. But as he drew closer he could see the familiar massive shape of Strife as he savaged what remained of the man Cain had shot.

He stopped and held still. Strife did not have complete control over the beast yet. There was the possibility that the beast would see him as another enemy that he needed to destroy. It was rare that Strife changed that he did not change with him. This was only the third or fourth time that Strife had changed outside of the full moon though. The beast was always wilder when the change happened because of trauma.

The beast paused as it left its meal and stood to its full height once more. He turned slowly to look at Cain, nose worked as the wind brought Cain’s scent to him. Those eyes were like pools of molten gold as he stared at the much smaller man. Then he dropped to all fours as he drew closer to Cain. Cain was still, but not afraid. To show fear would rile the beast.

“Yeah… you know who I am.” He said as Strife’s fur covered head leaned in. His breath smelled like a charnel house, the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air. He nosed at Cain’s chest, sniffing him. Slowly he began to circle the man. Nose at work. When he reached Cain’s back it was clear he found his own scent there as he nearly shoved his nose up under Cain’s shirt to get to it. “You better not be…”

His question answered as he felt Strife’s broad tongue across his lower back, then the back of his neck. The beast gave a growl that wasn’t savage… it was possessive. He’d fucked Strife the beast before. Though it was when he had let his beast out as well. He had woken up many a morning after a full moon with Strife still inside him, snoring and drooling against the back of his neck. He’d not let his lover have him when their forms were so different before. It was an idea that made a cold thread of dread run through him as much as it aroused him. His cock sprang to attention immediately, already it strained against his boxers as his mate continued to take in his scent and taste.

“Cain… you’ve become a perverse mother fucker. Just like him.” He turned slowly to face his mate. From what he saw between his mate’s thighs, Strife already knew what he wanted. A small growl of annoyance from Strife and Cain smirked. “Don’t worry, you greedy asshole… you’ll get what you want.” He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and just pulled it and his undershirt over his head. He tossed both aside as Strife watched him with those predatory eyes that were the same when he was beast or man. When Cain bent to pull his boots off Strife’s snout was in his hair. Then he unbuckled his jeans, shoved them and his boxers down so he could step out of them and kick them away.

As soon as he straightened his mate’s nose was up against his cock. Cain groaned as his lover’s broad tongue lapped over his length from root to tip. “You bite me mother fucker… I’m having you neutered.”

If Strife understood the words it didn’t matter. Those huge hands tipped with deadly wicked claws grabbed Cain’s arms and forced him to the ground. That maw filled with dagger like teeth that had ended at least a dozen lives that night nuzzled and licked at Cain’s cock, balls, and ass. It wasn’t long before Cain trembled with barely suppressed need. Strife had teased and denied him for three days. His fingers dug into the thick fur of Strife’s neck as his hips lifted to meet that eager mouth. “… oh, fuck me fuck me fuck me…”

He didn’t know if Strife knew what he was doing at that moment or just went by instinct. But it was enough to high kick Cain right to the edge as that tongue ran over his sensitive flesh. Those deadly teeth so close to such delicate flesh only enhanced the pleasure. Cain could feel his extremities grow numb. His toes curled as he pulled on Strife’s fur. The pleasure rose higher and higher until it neared painful levels. Everything tight. His body tight like a drawn bow. He trembled beneath his massive mate before with a shout, “STRIFE!” he climaxed hard. It felt like his pleasure rose from his toes and fingers through his veins until everything was fireworks and explosives.

Strife’s tongue continued to lap at Cain’s cock, catching up every drop of his seed before Cain had to shove his head away. “God damnit you son of a bitch… that’s sensitive.” He was shaking from the strength of his climax after those days of teasing and denial. As Cain opened his eyes as he watched his lover. After a few moments pause he shifted and squirmed until he could wrap his hand around his lover’s thick prick. An appreciative sound rumbled out of Strife’s chest.

Cain smirked as he turned around and with Strife on all fours above him he wrapped his lips around his lover’s cock and was glad he’d put both hands around the shaft as well as Strife’s hips had jerked forward to bury his length in that welcome wet warmth. The beast did not control him right then. He was more than just feral instinct and lust… though not by much. Cain wanted his mate so much that as he tasted his lover, inhaled that heavy musk he felt his cock harden once more. Somewhere deep inside he heard a tiny voice tell him he was going to hell. Well at least in hell he’d have good company. He and Strife would rule the damn place.

Warm wet drool ran down Cain’s chin, mixed with what leaked from the head of his mate’s shaft. Above he heard Strife’s grumble growls as he wanted more. He couldn’t blame the man. He wanted more too. When Strife began to lick the back of his legs and ass Cain gave a low groan. He pushed against that tongue as it swiped across his flesh. When he could take no more he reached back to push Strife’s head away.

Cain turned around once more, then propped on one elbow he reached back and guided his lover’s cock until it pressed up against the tight ring of muscles of his ass. He knew it would hurt. Hell… it would be agony. At least he knew any pain would be transitory. Strife shifted above him as if to gain better traction… then his hips jerked forward. The first thrust penetrated and Cain screamed. He could feel his flesh tear, smell the fresh blood.

His hand fell away from Strife’s shaft as the second thrust forced more of that thick prick into his lover’s body. Cain was shaking as sweat beaded on his skin. He panted heavily even as he felt Strife’s tongue lap against the side of his face. A satisfied rumble in his ear. Cain turned his head just enough to make eye contact. “…do it baby… fuck me.”

Strife’s forearms moved until they were right in front of Cain’s shoulders, then with a third thrust he had at least two thirds of his cock in his lover’s body. When Cain looked down at his stomach he could see the bump as it moved under his skin. Strife continued to rumble as he fucked his lover. Those thrusts hard, powerful, and each one pushed Cain up against Strife’s arms.

Cain grabbed at Strife’s wrists. As his own bestial gifts healed his wounds the agony quickly faded, replaced by the pleasure as it grew by the moment. His high-pitched cries replaced by groans. The tears which had run down his face from the pain licked away by the same beast who had just feasted on the flesh of a man. Cain’s knees abraded by the sand and stones beneath him but what was such a mild discomfort compared to the sensation of his lover’s cock deep inside him.

He could feel Strife’s furnace like heat against his back. The stiff guard hairs brushed over Cain’s scars. He could feel the softer fur beneath that as his lover moved against him. Nothing could ever compare to this. He felt completely subsumed by Strife. His mate’s presence. His scent. His sex. Cain’s senses filled with Strife. It left him in a foggy haze. All he knew was his lover. All he knew was Strife’s body against his own. The feel of fur against flesh. The scrape of claws on stone. His pleasure rose higher and higher. That glorious full sensation. The pressure within his body. When Cain peaked again he barely registered another pleased rumble from his mate. But Strife was far from done with him.

Cain felt as if he floated. The physical world just faded away as all he knew was Strife. All he felt was Strife. All he could smell, taste, and hear was Strife. He was vaguely aware when Strife wrapped his arms around Cain to pick him up. To work him on his cock like Cain was nothing more than a cock sleeve. He felt his fingers grip fur even as he felt teeth on the back of his neck. Strife’s jaws nearly engulfed his entire neck. It wouldn’t take much for the beast to behead Cain. But he knew he was safe with Strife.

How long did they fuck? Hours? Days? Years? Cain knew he orgasmed more than once. He could smell it as much as he felt it. Eventually though, even he could give no more. His flesh sticky with sweat, cum, and drool. His head was against Strife’s shoulder as he felt something push against him. Strife tried to force something into him. He was only aware enough to make small protests. Then with a final thrust his mate worked the knot at the base of his cock into Cain’s body. He could feel as Strife’s seed spilled into him, filled him.

Strife slowly lay them both down. He licked the back of Cain’s neck and shoulder. His length buried deep in his mate’s body. Cain managed the strength to smile and stroke one of Strife’s fur covered arms. Then exhaustion claimed him and he passed out.

When consciousness returned the sun was a fresh glimmer on the horizon. Cain’s eyes opened slowly as he tried to suss out his surroundings. A man’s corpse lay not too far off. Half devoured. A couple of vultures were nearby but seemed reluctant to approach. He looked down and saw Strife’s arm around his waist. He could feel the man’s breath against the back of his neck, feel his lover’s cock still inside him. Cain smiled and gently nudged Strife with his elbow, “Wake up, asshole.”

With a snort Strife lifted his head then rubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand. He frowned, then picked something from his teeth to flick away. “That fucker shot me.”

“Yeah… cause you ran your mouth yet again.” Cain let his fingers run along Strife’s forearm.

“Eh.” He looked over at the corpse. “That you or me.”

“All you. You barely left anything for me to kill. Selfish bastard.” Cain sounded amused.

“Well… them fuckers shouldn’t have shot me.” He ran his hand over Cain’s chest then down to his hip. “Now this here… this is a damn nice way ta wake up.”

“Mmm Hmm… and no we don’t have time for seconds. There will be authorities swarming this place soon enough. I’d rather be some distance from the corpses by then. You wanna let me up?” Cain turned his head to look at Strife with a smirk.

“I’d rather fuck ya… but that can wait.” With a wet sound as their bodies parted he rolled onto his back.

Cain groaned, a shiver ran up and down his spine. Slowly though he found his feet then went to gather his clothes. “Hopefully there’s a camel or two that didn’t run for the hills. We’ll find our shit then figure out a way back to Alexandria.” As he pulled on his pants he caught Strife’s gaze on him. “What?”

“Just thinkin’ how much better mah life is with you in it.” Strife finally pushed to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and rose on his toes. His body well-muscled, his skin tan, he looked like some ancient god that belonged in a place like this. Strife walked over to Cain, cupped his face in both hands. “I love you.”

Cain stood mute. He knew how hard that was for Strife to say, out loud, to his face. They’d spent hours upon hours talking about how fucked up both of their lives had been before they’d found one another. Cain dropped his shirt as he put his hands on top of Strife’s. “I love you too… even when you’re driving me crazy.”

Strife chuckled as he leaned in to claim a brief kiss before he whispered against Cain’s lips, “Especially when I drive you crazy.” His thumbs brushed over Cain’s cheeks before his hands dropped away and he took a step back. “Well don’t just stand there with yer jaw hangin’ gonna catch flies.” With a cocky grin, he turned to head back toward the camp. Naked as a jaybird with a swagger that dared the world to test him. Cain watched him go, his chest tight with emotions he’d never felt for another before. With a final laugh, he grabbed his boots and shirt then jogged to catch up with Strife. They couldn’t stand around forever after all. There was so much more of the world they wanted to see together. Cain could think of no one else he’d rather be with than that tall cocky asshole, Strife.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.7


Some of the men had flashlights and they set them on the ground to point at Cain and Strife as they stopped in front of the temple complex, their backs to the open pit. The Leader stood there as he seemed to take the measure of the two men before he finally spoke in Slavic accented English, “I am told you are soldiers. Mercenaries. Then perhaps you’ll understand this. Tell me where you hid the merchandise and you will be paid. Continue to thwart my men and I and you will both die. It is that simple.”

“Two thousand.” Strife said with a grin. “That should get us across tha Mediterranean and leave a little change in our pockets.”

The man laughed, some of his men joined in. “Is that all? I expected a much higher number. Very well. Now… tell me where my explosives are.”

 Strife leaned forward as if it were a big secret then he whispered loudly, “I stuck ‘em up a camel’s ass.”

Cain just sighed, “Idiot.”

Strife looked over at him with that same shit eating grin, “That’s why ya…”

His words cut off by the crack of a pistol. The bullet slammed into Strife’s chest. He looked down at the blood as it bloomed across his shirt. His legs shook as he took a wobbly step back. “…fuck me…” And he toppled over backwards into the pit. They could hear the heavy thud of his body as it hit the ground below.

Cain’s eyes were wide, his body shook with barely controlled rage. He looked back at the man who interrogated them as he holstered his weapon, “Now perhaps you will be more honest. Where are my explosives.”

He shook his head, “You shouldn’t have done that. God damn… you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Your friend was a fool. You do not seem to me a fool. If you know where he hid the explosives. Tell me and this will all be over.” He flicked ashes from his cigar onto the ground.

Down in the pit Cain heard the familiar sounds of bones as they snapped, tendons popped, as flesh rearranged. He laughed, “I ain’t the fool here mother fucker. You don’t know what you just did. You… and all these fuckers with you are gonna die.”

The Leader scowled as he pulled his gun from the holster once more, “I ask one last time. We will find my explosives no matter what, your friend did not have enough time to hide them too far from here. I would rather be gone before the sun rose though.” He cocked the gun, “Where are my explosives.”

From deep in the pit a rumbling growl sounded. It was loud enough to cause the sand to vibrate. Cain just laughed. The Leader gestured to one of his men to look in the pit and see what that was. The man didn’t look thrilled but he picked up one of the flash lights as he approached the edge of the pit. When he leaned out to shine the light into the shadows, something grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him down into the darkness with a shout of alarm. A scream of terror shattered the night before the sound cut off abruptly with the wet sound of flesh as it ripped. Moments later something flew up and out of the pit. It hit the ground with a thud before it rolled toward the Leader’s feet. It was the man’s head, his face permanently locked in a fearful scream.

“Told you mother fuckers. You’re all gonna die.” Cain’s laughter finally ceased. When Mr. Smith had tied his hands, he’d made a slip knot and pressed the end into Cain’s palm. As he tugged on the rope something came crawling up out of the pit. The flashlight the first victim had carried was still down in the pit to backlight the monster who crawled out.

Strife was a big man. As a beast, he was massive. He was over eight feet tall, had to weigh nearly five hundred pounds. Muscles rippled under the grey fur that covered his body. Claws meant to slash and tear tipped his fingers and toes. His maw filled with teeth like daggers. As he stood to his full height the beast ROARED!

Men screamed. The scent of piss and shit heavy in the air as terror made men void their bladders and bowels. The Leader stared with mouth agape. His cigar fallen to the ground right next to the severed head of his man. Then as if a spell had broken men began to fire their weapons at the monster in their midst. Bullets slammed into flesh but did little more than to piss the beast off. Without silver on those bullets they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to the beast.

Strife crouched then sprang forward. He crossed nearly twenty feet in what felt like an instant. He snatched the rifle from the hands of one man only to throw it aside. Then he grabbed the second with claws that stabbed into the man’s guts and hooked in his ribs. With the same ease that a wolf might use to savage the lamb he lifted the second man and slammed his body into the first. Bones broke. Flesh ripped. And men screamed in agony before their pain ended at the hands of the monster.

Cain shook free of the ropes which had bound his wrists as he knelt. He pulled up the hem of his jeans to grab the knife he kept strapped there. With blade in hand he ran directly at the Leader. He could have changed. He could have let the beast out to rip and tear alongside Strife. But he didn’t want the beast to take these kills. Cain wanted the blood of these men. The beast would just have to wait.

The man only noticed Cain at the last moment. He brought his gun up, but it was already too late. Cain grabbed the man’s wrist as he pushed his arm up. When the gun sounded it was above Cain’s head as he came in low. He thrust his blade deep into the Leader’s gut as their eyes met. The man cursed Cain as pain filled him. Cain didn’t care. He sawed the blade back and forth until with a wet sound the man’s guts spilled from his belly. The gun fell from nerveless fingers as Cain forced the man to his knees, then onto his back.

“I could give two shits what you bastards were up to. But y’all mother fuckers ruined my god damned vacation.” He pulled the blade free from the man’s stomach, blood up to his elbow. With a feral grin, he slashed across the bastard’s throat and left him to drown in his own blood. Cain picked up the gun, checked the clip, looked back, and turned to crouch and snag the spare clip from the dying man’s belt. As he slapped a new clip into the gun he looked around.

Strife was having a grand time as he ripped his way through the men who had come in the truck. He had that well in hand. Cain didn’t need to worry about any of them escaping. Strife was too thorough. He turned his steps back toward the camp where the fire still flickered and nervous men watched the shadows as they heard their compatriots scream in terror and die brutally.

Cain ran his tongue over his teeth. He opened himself to the beast just enough to enhance his already sharp senses. His nails lengthened to harden into claws which could rip and tear as easily as Strife’s. With knife in one hand and gun in the other he took off at a run back toward the camp. Strife’s rampage was more than adequate to cover any sound he made. He couldn’t see the two who had traveled with them yet. Either they hid, or had possibly made a run for it. They wouldn’t get far. He would track those fuckers down just to make sure they died a horrible slow death.

The two left to guard looked young. Their facial hair sparse, their eyes scared. They stared out into the darkness as they looked toward the sounds which echoed back to them from the ruins. Cain probably could have just said boo and they would have left a yellow trail in their wake. But they had chosen the wrong people to work for. Their lives were forfeit as much as the others. He paused only long enough to take his knife by the blade before he threw it. For a heartbeat, it disappeared in the darkness, then when it reappeared it had struck the first man in the neck. He gurgled as he dropped his gun so his hands could grab at his neck as his life blood pumped out with each beat of his heart.

The second didn’t get a chance to go after the hostages as Cain put two bullets in his chest. He ran into the light of the fire as the second man crumpled to the ground. He looked at his fellow tourists before he snapped. “All of you… On your feet.”

Cain took the first rifle to hand to Mr. Pierce. The man gave his wife the colt from his waistband. She wiped her tears before she checked the safety and clip. Cain looked at the others, “Who else knows how to handle a damn rifle?”

Mr. Smith slowly lifted his hand, “…boy scout… uhhh… Used to win competitions.”

“Good fucking enough.” was Cain’s terse reply as he handed the second rifle to the car salesman. “Now y’all need to get in that truck over there and get the hell out of here. If they got a map, use it. Otherwise head east to the Nile, then north until you find civilization again. Don’t stop for no damn thing.”

“What about you and your friend?” Mr. Pierce asked as he looked back to where the screams continued to sound.

“We got this handled.” Cain retrieved his knife from the dying man’s throat and wiped it off on the man’s shirt.

“What about the Higginbotham’s?” Mrs. Smith asked as she held her children close to her. The hippies had already run off toward the truck.

“Go. I’ll get this.” As the others left he walked over to Mrs. Higginbotham and her husband. He knelt across from her then reached over to lay his hand atop hers where it held her husband’s. “I know it hurts. But you can’t lay down and die with him. And you know damn well he wouldn’t want you to. You’ve got grandkids back home. They are gonna need you more than ever now.”

At first, she didn’t seem to hear. She used her thumb to wipe away spots of blood from her husband’s face. Slowly her gaze lifted until she met Cain’s eyes. “…he promised me forever.”

Those words hurt. “And someday he’ll be waiting for you on the other side. You know he’s gonna need you to help him find matching socks. Come on. We’ll get him into the truck so you can take him home. You know your kids will want to say their goodbyes.”

Silent tears left tracks down her face. Her hand came up to cup Cain’s cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

Cain smiled as he held her hand against his cheek. Then he let her go, tucked the gun into his waistband before he carefully leveraged Mr. Higginbotham up and across his shoulders. The man had at least six inches in height on Cain and probably 50 pounds if not more. He had mentioned more than once he married his wife for the way she cooked. With a grunt, he stood. The  man’s blood ran down the back of his shirt as he waited for Mrs. Higginbotham to get to her feet, then they headed for the truck as fast as they could go.

When they reached the truck Mr. Pierce and his wife were in the cab while everyone else was in the back. The hippies helped Cain get Mr. Higginbotham into the back one of them gave up his jacket to cover the man’s body, then they helped Mrs. Higginbotham into the truck. Cain moved to where he could see in the side mirror and gave the all clear. The truck kicked up a lot of dust as it took off. He hoped to hell they found their way to civilization. He had no idea where their guides had gone… but as it looked like half the camels were gone as well. He figured they took off during the chaos.

Cain rolled his head on his shoulders. The sounds of carnage were not as loud. Strife must have taken care of all the easy kills. Anyone left probably hoped the beast didn’t find them. Too bad there was no where they could hide where the beast couldn’t find them. Strife didn’t like leaving a job half done. No survivors. All Cain wanted was the two sons of bitches who started all the bullshit. If they hadn’t decided to use the tour group as a cover then Mr. Higginbotham would still be alive. Hell, they could have handed over their merchandise and no one would have been the wiser. But they fucked up Cain’s vacation, and he wasn’t going to take that lying down.

He walked over to what remained of the fire. He kicked dirt over it to smother the coals and the flames sputtered out. Now the only light were the stars, moon, and a handful of flashlights left lying where they fell. Somewhere out in the darkness were the two he held responsible for the shit show. Now all he had to do was flush them out of whatever hole they’d dug themselves into.

Cain moved in silence as began to search. He checked the tents first, those he checked he cut the ropes which held them upright. As each one crumpled it left one less place for the men to hide. A fresh scream ripped through the air, a single shot sounded, the wet sound of flesh as it ripped and tore, then silence. Cain heard pebbles as they clattered over stone. He angled his trajectory in that direction as he kept to the shadows thrown by the light of the moon. Soon enough he caught the scent of his prey. They headed for the river, perhaps in the vain hope that a boat might be there. It would have been better if they’d made for the desert, at least then they wouldn’t have their back to water.

He increased his speed until he could see the pair. The scent of their panic was delicious as Cain’s mouth began to water. The beast clawed at the cage of his ribs. It wanted out. It wanted to tear into those men. But Cain kept the beast at bay. This would be his kill. When the men darted from one shelter to the next Cain called out in Italian. “You should not have ruined my vacation. You should not have killed the innocent.” A pause as he let some of Strife’s drawl into his words. “You boys done fucked up.”

The one with the mustache spun and fired off a single shot. It struck the ground somewhere off to the right of Cain. They scrabbled across stone and sand as they sought to put distance between themselves and the one who hunted them. Ancient columns rose out of the darkness as they fled. One could almost smell the incense that must have once permeated the temples built there. Would the gods of old approve? How much did their hearts weigh in comparison to a feather?

Cain stopped, aimed his Colt, and when he fired the man who had shot Mr. Higginbotham screamed as he fell, his knee shattered by Cain’s bullet. His eyesight was much better than theirs in the dark. As he continued to stalk forward the other man looked back once then continued to run. He gave no care for his friend, only for his own useless hide.

“Don’t go nowhere.” Cain said as he stalked up to the wounded prey. He kicked the man over and put his boot between his shoulder blades as he took the man’s gun and flung it off into the dark. There was still one more. The one shot wouldn’t get far even if he did try to flee. Cain looked over his shoulder as he continued his hunt, “Make peace with your god… while you can.”

He heard the man curse him before he broke down in sobs. Cain snorted in disdain then picked up his pace once more. The mustached man gave no thought to stealth. Flight his only concern. It made him sloppy and easy to track. When Cain caught sight of him once more he stood at the top of a steep embankment. The water below a tributary of the mighty Nile which was still some distance away.

“You gonna jump?” Cain called out as if they were both just out for a Sunday stroll.

The man let out a startled yelp as he spun to face Cain. His gun came up. “What are you?”

“What am I?” Cain laughed. “I’m a man just trying to relax. See some of the wonders of the world. Be a civilian for a while. A tourist. I didn’t come here looking for trouble… but damnit if you didn’t bring some right into my lap.”

He continued to walk toward the man. “But that’s not what you want to know is it. You saw my mate when he crawled up outta that pit didn’t you? You saw a monster and you hauled ass. You are probably questioning everything you thought you knew about the world aren’t ya? How many of the old legends are true?”

The moon reflected off Cain’s eyes as he stopped only a few paces away from his quarry. “I’m here to tell you. They’re all true. Every single one. Mermaids. Vampires. Ghosts. Fairies. They’re all real. Hidden from most folks too dumb to see what they don’t wanna see.”

A howl ripped through the air. Cain smiled, his lips peeled back from his teeth. His canines exposed where the man could see they were much longer than was natural for humans. “And werewolves… yeah. We’re real too.”

He caught the scent of urine as the man’s bladder released, a wet spot spread across the front of his trousers. With a fearful shout, he fired his gun again. The bullet slammed into Cain’s shoulder as he stumbled back a step. With a growl he straightened, pulled his shirt to expose the wound. He let just enough of the beast’s power flow through him that the wound began to close, the bullet fell out and into Cain’s palm as he heard the Libyan start to sob. “And yeah… the bit about silver is true. Too bad you’ll never get the chance to use that knowledge.”

The man pulled the trigger again but heard only a click. And another click. And another. His clip was empty as his knees shook till he collapsed. The gun fell from nerveless fingers as he seemed to pray. Cain rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all. He stalked forward to grab the man around the neck and pull him up just enough so their eyes met.

“You’re pathetic. Not even worth the bullet it would take to kill you.” He looked down at the water as a smirk spread across his lips. His claws sank into the man’s neck as the bastard screamed. Blood ran down his prey’s neck to stain his shirt. Cain leaned in close to whisper in the man’s ear, “Give Sebek my regards…”

The man who had caused Cain so much grief had just enough time to look at him with confusion before Cain shoved him backwards. With a shriek, he tumbled down the embankment head over heels until he landed in the water with a splash. Cain watched as the shapes he’d seen in the water began to close in. The prey looked over his shoulder and screamed again even as he tried to scramble forward out of the water. The crocodiles were too swift and in their own element. One lunged forward and with a mighty snap its jaws closed on the man’s leg. It dragged him as he screamed and flailed back into deeper water as more crocodiles closed in. Cain heard one final waterlogged scream, then the only sounds were the splashes of the crocs as they death rolled to tear off pieces of their midnight snack.

Chapter 8

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.6


The sun was low on the horizon when they saw their destination in the distance. The plan was to camp, and the next day explore the ruins. Cain wasn’t certain how much of that would go as planned. At least the oasis they approached looked empty. No one lurked there in wait. He refused to drop his guard though. Especially if whoever killed the fishermen were somehow involved with the Libyans.

As camels knelt Cain was never so happy to be off the damn beasts back. As their guides set up the tents he walked over to some carved stones. His fingers roamed over the hieroglyphics he found there. He traced what remained of the shapes with his fingertips. A familiar footstep made him look up as Strife joined him.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the Libyans?” Cain asked as he leaned his back against the stone.

“Mister West Point done got to ‘em first. Has ‘em explainin’ tha history of tha place. Whatever tha fuck they are, they at least done their homework from tha sound of it.” Strife had his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Come on… I wanna see some shit fore all tha light is gone.”

“Seriously?” Cain knew the look in his lover’s eyes. He shrugged, “Alright. But I don’t want to be away from the group for long.”

“Shit… anything happens we’ll hear it long ‘fore anyone else.” He turned on his heel to head deeper into the complex with Cain at his side.

Just like the pyramids they could feel the age of the place. Each year soaked deep into the bones of the earth. The enormous weight of centuries worth of humanity as they had lived, toiled, and worshipped in the city they now toured the ruins of. They were silent at first. The only sound their breathing and the sound of their footsteps. They jumped down into one area. From above it looked like a maze. From what Cain had read though it was probably part of a temple complex.

They were near the middle when Strife pushed Cain against the wall to loom over him. With the sun barely above the horizon most of Strife’s face was in shadow but for the wicked grin he wore. “Pull out yer dick.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Strife... we don’t’ have time for this. Someone could…” Cain’s protests were silenced when Strife leaned in to kiss him. He grabbed the front of Strife’s shirt in both fists and by the time the other pulled back Cain felt breathless and fuck if he wasn’t hard as a rock. “I swear… I’m gonna put a bullet in you.”

“Now you know how that dirty talk makes me feel.” He leaned in closer as he growled against Cain’s ear. “Yer dick. Out. Now.”

The son of a bitch pushed every button. Buttons Cain hadn’t even realized he’d had before he’d found Strife. One hand continued to grip the man’s shirt he reached down to unzip his jeans so he could pull his cock out.

Strife looked down with a smirk, “Well lookit that. Ain’t even done more than kiss ya... already hard as hell.” When he met Cain’s eyes once more, Strife’s eyes had lightened several shades from their normal deep brown to almost amber. The beast rode high in the man that night. “Now stroke it.”

The command had Cain weak in the knees, and mad as hell. Two days of teasing. Two days of denial. He was already on a hair trigger. The stress surrounding the Libyans hadn’t helped his mood either. Cain’s lips pulled back from his teeth as he snarled. His hand still closed around his cock as he began to run his palm up and down his length in a slow casual way. His voice little more than a breathless whisper when he asked. “This what you want?”

“Yeah baby. Just like that.” Strife leaned in again, his breath hot on Cain’s skin as he sniffed him. “I love it when ya smell like my cum. Like raw sex. Lets every bastard out there know that ya belong ta me. Cause there ain’t no one else that can do fer ya like I can.”

Those words sent shivers up and down Cain’s spine. His balls felt tight, he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to cum. He only needed to speed up. Strife hadn’t told him to though. Not yet. He turned his head to the side to expose his neck to his lover. To expose the jugular where his pulse fluttered just beneath the surface. When Strife leaned in to gently nip the sensitive skin Cain had gasped. His toes curled in his boots. “…Strife…”

“Damn…lookit you. All need and want. Cravin’ ta be fucked. Wantin’ mah mouth on yer dick. You’d like that yeah? Mah suckin’ ya off right here. Right now. Then maybe pushin ya up ‘gainst this wall. Fuck ya till ya can’t walk straight.” Strife words were a low whispered rumble meant only for Cain’s ears. He loomed over his lover, both hands on the wall over Cain’s head. The heat of his body so close. Cain’s knuckles brushed against Strife’s jeans.

Cain’s breath caught in his throat. He tugged at Strife’s shirt. “…please…” The longer Strife spoke the higher he went. He was so close. Strife’s games had him on the dagger’s edge, ready to peak and spill.

Strife caught Cain’s neck in a hand, his fingers on the man’s jaw as he met Cain’s eyes directly. When he was with Strife was the only time Cain felt like prey. He was as much a beast as Strife, and yet he stood there as his legs trembled. The only reason he stood was the wall at his back, and his grip on Strife’s shirt. Those eyes that could hold such cruelty. They bore into Cain before a smirk touched Strife’s lips. “Now stop.”

Cain’s eyes widened. A rush of rage coursed through him. His body shook as the urge to punch the smirk off that face surged. He pulled his hand away from his dick with a growl. “…you son of a bitch…”

“Takes one ta know one. Now put it away.” His grip on Cain’s jaw didn’t ease as he forced Cain to meet his eyes while the other fumbled to tuck his still erect cock back into his jeans. Only when Cain had zipped up did Strife’s grip ease. His thumb brushed over Cain’s lower lip. “I ever tell ya that yer beautiful as all hell when yer angry.”

It took Cain a bit longer before he could form any words that weren’t pure expletives. “Yeah… every time you piss me off.”

“Maybe that’s why I do it.” And he leaned in to claim another kiss. Strife’s arms went around Cain’s smaller frame as he lifted him up off his feet. Cain wasted no time as he wrapped his arms and legs around Strife’s body.

For a time, all that existed was one another as their mouths warred. Tongues wrestled. Teeth bit. Then a sound intruded. Someone’s footsteps approached. A surprised sound from a close intersection and the teen girl who had followed them quickly turned away to run back the way she came. Cain sighed. “Dollars to donuts she followed you out here hoping for something.”

“Eh…I got what I want.” His hands squeezed Cain’s ass before he let the man down once more.

“Yeah well I don’t want no trouble if she goes running to Daddy. There’s enough shit in the air without adding to it.” He pulled away from Strife to try and calm down. Every nerve seemed on fire and Cain wanted to do nothing more than hump the red-neck’s thigh till he got off. They didn’t have time for that though, not that Strife would let him, at least not yet. “Let’s get back before Little Susie falls down a well or something.”

“Debbie…her name is Debbie.” Strife corrected with a grin.

“Like I give two fucks. Let’s go.” He stalked away from Strife cause being near that man infuriated him as much as it was glorious. He needed a drink or a smoke. Probably both.

They climbed out of the temple complex and Cain immediately put an arm out to stop Strife. “You hear that?”

Strife tilted his head and snorted, “Truck engine… sounds like a diesel. Squeaky as fuck brakes.”

Cain rolled his eyes at the extra detail. “This could be our meet up. Come on.” He started to run back towards the camp when a high-pitched scream ripped through the night. Neither spoke as both increased their speed until they could see the chaos around the camp fire. One of the Libyans had an arm around Debbie’s neck as he held a gun to her temple. The second one had produced an AK from somewhere and held it on the rest of the tourists and their guides.

With a string of vicious curses Cain berated himself for the tryst in the ruins. If they had remained in camp, they probably could have stopped this before it happened. Even as he heard Strife’s growl beside him they slowed so not to show themselves too soon. Strife didn’t need instructions as they both drew their colts. Cain trusted Strife’s accuracy to take out the one who held the girl. But the one with the AK… even if he shot the bastard, if his finger twitched too much on the trigger innocent people would die. Cain didn’t need words as he signaled for Strife to take the left flank. They could still hear the truck in the distance, it was closing fast and they needed to get the civilians to safety before things went completely pear shaped.

As Strife vanished into the shadows Cain continued to creep forward. The screams and shouts from the camp covered any possible sound he and Strife might make. The one with the moustache who held Debbie fired a shot into the air to silence the group. He looked at the hostages gathered then said something to his companion. Then he turned and dragged Debbie to the edge of the firelight.

“Where do you hide Mr. Jackson? Mr. Stone? Show yourselves before someone has to die.” The girl wept as she clutched at the man’s arm around her neck. He hissed something at her and she went silent, though the tears continued to fall. “Do not be heroes. It will only end in unnecessary bloodshed.”

Cain could feel the beast rumble in his chest. It was the waxing moon, still many days from the full. But he could call upon the beast at any time should he need it. He could change right then. Perhaps use the distraction of being a monster to give the civilians time to escape. Cain had dropped to his stomach as he crawled over sand and stone. As the breeze came to him he knew Strife was somewhere off to his left, behind the men. He needed to keep the focus away from his partner. To let him do what damage he could.

“Who the fuck said we were heroes?” Cain called out. “These assholes ain’t paying me shit. I don’t owe them shit. We just want our stuff and you can do whatever the hell you want. Ain’t no skin off my back.”

“I doubt those words Mr. Jackson. I believe you are a man who cares very much what happens to others. Where is your friend? Where does Mr. Stone lurk?” The man yanked Debbie back a few steps as he moved closer to where they had the hostages kneel.

“Fuck if I know. Probably off fucking a hippo and calling it Shirley. He’s a beast like that.” Cain continued to move to not give them a stationary target. He didn’t particularly want to have to deal with bullet wounds. And that damn truck was now close enough that they could hear it too.

“Humor again. Well where ever your friend hides. It is too late now. You should have surrendered peacefully.” He turned his head as he spoke to his companion in Italian. The words made Cain’s blood run cold as he got to his feet to sprint towards the firelight. It was too late as the one with the AK pointed it at Mr. Higginbotham and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed as the bullet hit him in the chest. He fell backwards with only a grunt while the other hostages screamed and cried out. Only Mrs. Higginbotham was silent as she stared at her husband of fifty years. His blood stained her flowered dress.

When Cain emerged from the shadows the mustached man aimed his gun at him, “Ah. There you are. One more step and the old woman is next.”

Cain hadn’t wanted to kill anyone so much since the 20s when he spoiled a Klan picnic. He didn’t even want to let the beast loose. He wanted to rip that bastard’s throat out with his human hands and teeth. When the gun pressed against Debbie’s temple once more Cain stopped. His hands curled into fists. “Here I am. What now, bitch?”

“Call your friend. If he does not appear by the time I count 10… another will die.” He said as he pushed the gun against Debbie’s skin hard enough to leave a mark.

Cain’s lips peeled back from his teeth. But so long as they physically controlled the hostages he couldn’t risk another innocent’s death. He didn’t call Strife’s name. He whistled. He knew Strife would have listened. He would know the score. When the big man stepped out of the shadows between tents the man with the AK spun to face him. He did not look happy to realize how close Strife had gotten to them. He used the AK to herd Strife over with the other hostages, then he took the colt and the knife.

“It is good you did not cause further disruption.” He gestured with his gun for Cain to join the rest. Then he tossed rope at Mr. Smith and ordered him to bind their wrists. The car salesman’s hands were shaking as he moved behind Strife and bound his wrists together behind his back. The man muttered something about having been a boy scout. Strife laughed like it was all a lark.

Firelight reflected off Cain’s eyes as he stalked forward then joined the others. He knelt next to Strife who looked at him and said in heavily accented Vietnamese, “I hid the goods.”

Cain just nodded and smiled as the man with the AK didn’t look happy that they spoke a language he didn’t know. His English was not as good as his companion’s as he asked, “What he say?”

“Said you must got a little dick…” The man didn’t take that well as he used the butt of the rifle to smack Cain in the forehead. The growl which escaped Strife was enough to make the man quickly move back so he could level the AK at the two of them once more.

Cain reached up to touch the gash on his forehead. He smeared the blood between his fingers as he looked to Strife, then to the others. When Mr. Smith moved toward him with the rope he put his hands behind his back with no struggle. “It’s gonna be okay…” He doubted the man believed him, but at least his hands ceased to tremble.

Half the tourists wept. Some so terrified they’d pissed themselves. He saw Mr. Pierce and when their eyes met the man brushed a hand over the front of his shirt where it tucked into his pants. Good. He still had the gun. His wife made his shirt wet with her tears. Only Mrs. Higginbotham was silent and not afraid. She had moved closer to her husband where she held his hand and stroked his hair. The rest of the world no longer existed, her only focus was the man she had spent fifty years of her life with. Cain didn’t think she’d survive the night. She was already dying so she could be with her beloved. Their guides were off to one side where they knelt in silence.

The truck they had heard finally pulled up. Men spilled out, all armed. Only when they approached did the one release Debbie. She darted to her parents where her Mother wrapped arms around her. The newcomers also spoke Italian as the pilgrims filled them in on what was what. Two of the newcomers approached to take over as guards as the original two took the rest to where the camels remained. Cain looked at Strife as they waited. Strife smirked as he mouthed a count down. When angry voices sounded in the night he snorted and turned back to look directly at the two who stood guard.

The men stormed back to the camp fire. The mustached pilgrim walked right up to Strife and put his gun to the man’s forehead. He spit out a dozen curses before he leaned in, “Where is my merchandise?”

“Tha fuck you talkin’ bout?” Strife pressed his brow against the muzzle of the gun. His grin was sadistic. The glint in his eyes murderous. The man had no fear and it was painfully obvious. “Cause I ain’t a patient man… and I ain’t sittin’ here all damn night.”

The Libyan snarled in anger and pointed his gun at the other hostages, “Tell me where my C4 is or someone dies.”

Strife looked in the direction the man pointed. “Go ahead. They ain’t no kin of mine.” His shrug was more salt in the wound. The hippie girl broke down in sobs, her companions petrified.

With a growl, the man’s gun swung around to point at Cain. “This one. Your companion. Do you have no care for him?”

A low rumble escaped from Strife’s chest. It soon became obvious it was a laugh. “That bitch? Like I can’t find another skinny fag ta suck my cock. Go ahead.”

Cain rolled his eyes, “When I’m a ghost, I’m coming back to haunt your ass.”

“Ya stare at it enough.” Before Strife could continue the Libyan struck him across the jaw with the butt of his weapon. He turned back slowly, spit blood out onto the sand then just grinned. “Keep this up and yer gonna turn me on.”

The man looked disgusted, and a touch afraid. But if he was more afraid of Strife or his associates it was hard to tell. He left them to go speak with the newcomers once more. From what Cain could overhear he was desperate to cover his ass. Finally, the man who was clearly in charge of the whole operation approached. He was older, maybe in his 50s or 60s, hair an iron grey with a mustache to match. He had a cigar, smelled Cuban to Cain. And when he talked he spoke flawless Italian, but his accent was anything but. He pointed to Cain and Strife and gestured with his thumb. Men came forward to get them on their feet and lead them away from the rest of the hostages and back towards the ruins.

Chapter 7

Monday, January 22, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.5


Morning came too soon. The spell which had fallen over Cain the night before shattered when Strife crawled over him to get out of bed. One more day of travel. They should arrive at their destination by nightfall. But it still meant another day on camelback. Another day under the hot sun.

“Next time… we take the jeep.” He grumbled as his legs swung around and he sat on the edge of the cot.

Strife just chuckled before he took a drink from the canteen, then tossed it to Cain. “Wash yer face… ya got something on yer chin.”

Cain caught the canteen and casually flipped Strife the bird as he used a bit of water to clean away some of the mess Strife had left him in the night before. “We should reach Hierakonpolis by nightfall. If the Libyans are going to meet someone it’ll either be on the road or when we get there. Keep hanging back with the baggage. Don’t let the camels with the C4 out of your sight. I’ll keep my eye on our friends.”

“A’yup. Too many civilians ta risk being surprised.” Strife pulled on his clothes, his Colt in its holster at the small of his back, and his bowie knife at his hip. He was never a man of many words and as soon as he dressed Strife was out of the tent and off to get breakfast.

Cain paused as Strife left. Even in just the few short years he had known Strife, rarely had he heard the man express any sort of concern for civilian casualties. With a hint of a smile on his lips he dressed then headed out to join the rest. Around the fire the tourists all looked tired and ready for the trip to be over. At least the kids weren’t whiny as they ate their breakfast then once their guides had everything packed up they got on their camels for the last leg of the journey.

Hot. Dry. Too many damn flies. Cain had taken up a position in the caravan behind the Libyans. They didn’t talk much, though they did occasionally look back at Cain. He gave them a friendly wave and a smile until they looked away once more. All he wanted was to do some tourist shit. Not deal with some bad plot out of a spy movie. If some dapper asshole with a British accent showed up he was shooting them in the head. This wasn’t what he signed up for.

It was still early in the day when one of their guides rode up next to him, “Mr. Jackson. You wish to see lion? The big predators?” He had an eager smile as he used crop in his hand to point to vultures as they circled in the sky. “Is probably lion. Maybe hyena.”

Cain shaded his eyes with a hand as he looked toward the circling birds. “How close is that to our trail? Cause as much as I want to see a big predator… I am ready to have this day be over.”

“Father thinks it be right on river bank. Lions make many kills when prey come to drink.” The young man was eager, his smile bright.

He nodded slowly. “I would too if I were a lion. Alright… thanks for keeping an eye out. I’ll make sure Flint takes plenty of pictures.”

“Good good.” He nodded then gave the camel he rode a hearty switch to have it jog to the front of the line. Their guides were all family. Father, his sons, brothers, some cousins. There were even two women who did all the cooking and never talked to any of the tourists, Cain wasn’t sure if they were wives or daughters. The family that bilked tourists together, stayed together. Or something like that.

Soon everyone in the caravan caught sight of the vultures. There was a lot of speculation over what had died and what kept the vultures at bay. Cain looked back to see that Strife had his camera out as he snapped pics of the birds in the sky and their surroundings. Their guides also pulled out rifles just in case whatever predator remained decided they were hungry for something else. As they came upon a bend in the river they could finally see the pride of lions around their kills. More than one by the look of things. Vultures tried to sneak in for bites, but the angry lions chased them off.

Cain found himself drawn to the sight. He could appreciate a skilled predator. He was one. His lover another. A couple of males with huge dark manes sprawled out nearby as they cleaned blood from their muzzles just like a housecat would do after a dish of cream. He could hear the click of Strife’s camera, then a low growl. As Cain turned to look back and see what had angered Strife the wind changed to bring the scent of the slaughter to his keen nose. Cain’s head whipped around and he didn’t even bother to have his camel kneel. He jumped down, pulled his colt from the shoulder holster under his over shirt as he took off at a sprint toward the lions.

He could hear the shouts of alarm behind him. Then more shouts as he knew Strife had followed. Cain saw the lions look up and toward the crazy humans. He pointed his gun in the air and fired off a shot. The big cats startled but didn’t want to give up their meal just yet. A second shot kicked up dust and that was enough to send the younger lions into the bush. By the time he fired off a third the rest of the pride scattered. Though the big males were the last to go and the slowest. He didn’t think they would go far. But he just needed them to stay back and not try to make a meal of him.

Cain didn’t stop until he was upon the scene of the slaughter. The lions had been at their meal for a while. There was not much left of the bodies. Ribs there. A skull here. He could just see scraps of cloth that had made up the clothes of the dead. Cain began to circle the clearing as Strife arrived, his own colt in hand. His lip peeled back from one corner of his mouth as he surveyed the destruction with Cain. Then the owner of the caravan joined them, and immediately offered a prayer for the dead.

Back at the caravan confused tourists pointed in their direction. When Cain looked up he saw Mr. West Point and Mr. Car Salesman on their way. He ignored them as he squatted next to a skull that had most of the flesh peeled off. Cain picked it up and turned it over. While lion canines had caused damage, it didn’t completely disguise the bullet hole in the back of the skull that had exited through the upper jaw. The front of the skull’s mouth was in pieces. He set it back down then rose.

“I see four bodies. How bout you?” He asked Strife who had performed a circuit of the scene as well.

“Yeah… tracks heading down to tha river. These folks had on sandals… tha ones walked away were wearin’ boots.” Mr. Smith had gotten close enough to realize what they looked at and immediately turned away to vomit. At least Mr. Pierce had a stronger stomach as he walked up on the scene. Strife looked over at them and the owner before he turned away and headed for the river bank to see what he could find.

“How in the hell did you know?” Mr. Pierce asked as he looked around at the carnage. “I couldn’t make out anything from so far away.”

Cain stood and arched his back until joints crackled, “Flint and I do a lot of sniper work. You get a good eye for details that way.” He wasn’t about to tell the man he smelled the human death before he saw it. They didn’t need to know any of that. He walked over to their guide, “You recognize anything? Clothes?”

The man shook his head. “No. The lions have destroyed too much.” He turned in a slow circle and shook his head, “No one would camp here without tent. Weapons. It is known the lions stalk the river at night.”

Strife pushed through some brush as if it were nothing. He ignored the thorns. “There’s a boat. Looks local. Fishin’ gear. And signs ‘nother was pulled up tha bank. Mud ain’t even dried yet. Maybe an hour, two at the most.”

Cain looked at Strife and nodded. They needed to talk away from prying ears. He suspected it connected to the Libyans. The someone’s they raced to meet kept their secrets close. They executed the fisherman rather than allow them to tell anyone who or what they saw. “And scavengers wouldn’t leave good meat to go to waste.”

Mr. Smith had gotten himself under control again, until Cain spoke. He turned away, hand over mouth as he returned to the caravan. Mr. Pierce looked back at him then at the rest. The guide and his son had gone to see the boat Strife spoke of. He looked at Cain and Strife and one could almost see the gears in his head work. One didn’t get into West Point if one was stupid. “You have some idea what’s going on?”

Cain and Strife exchanged a look before Cain spoke, “Maybe. Not one hundred percent sure though. Just got a feeling there might be trouble tonight. Keep a sharp eye on our two pilgrims.” He could see the two men back at the caravan as they had moved away from the rest of the group and appeared to be in deep conversation. Cain would give anything to know what they talked about right then.

Mr. Pierce looked momentarily confused, then his eyes opened a little wider, “Ah. Yes. The pilgrims.” He looked at their weapons then over his shoulder at the caravan then back. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra Colt, would you?”

Cain snorted. “Yeah… we can give you a spare.” He paused to chew on his lower lip, “Warn the Higginbotham’s. I think they can keep a secret. You think the Smiths can keep their yaps shut if you told them?”

The man smirked, “I think Mrs. Smith can. Her husband likes the sound of his own voice too much. And the backpackers?”

Cain shook his head, “They’re so stoned they’d probably sing about it. Hopefully if shit goes pear shaped they’ll at least have the smarts to duck.”

“Roger that.”

He turned to head back to the caravan as their guide returned. The decision made for the man’s brother and nephew to stay there. Retrieve what they could of the bodies then use the boat to take them to the closest settlement which was probably where they were from. The pair would get a ride on another boat upriver to catch up. They each had two rifles, loaded in case the lions tried to return. When they weren’t paying attention, Strife went around the area to piss on the bushes. One predator to another. Cain pinched the bridge of his nose, at least it was an effective deterrent.

Back at the caravan, Cain took a few minutes to retrieve one of their spare guns from the baggage camel. He kept it wrapped up as he handed off to Mr. Pierce. A little over an hour after they found the bodies, the caravan was on the road once more. Cain thought it looked like the two Libyans were pale as ghosts. The bodies had them spooked, and frightened men were the most dangerous kind as you couldn’t predict their actions. Now that the whole caravan also knew Cain was armed, the Libyans looked at him more often. He just smiled, though now he showed his teeth.

Chapter 6

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.4


Once inside he turned the lamp down to a soft glow as he waited for Strife to leave and join him. Cain didn’t pace or fidget. He was too old for that. He sat with his elbows braced on his knees, his fingertips pressed together as he looked at a spot on the rug as if he could see through it. When Strife finally joined he straightened but waited for the other man to speak first.

Strife went to his cot as he grabbed his duffel from beneath it then dug out his pot. As he rolled a joint he finally spoke. “C4.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Cain hissed. “How much?”

“Nuff ta put a hurtin’ on someone or something. They got it hidden under buncha science stuff. Like fer diggin’ up fossils n’shit.” He tucked the joint between his lips before he pulled out a battered zippo and lit the end. After he took a drag he continued, “Their shit is on two of tha baggage camels.” He said as he expelled the smoke and offered the joint to Cain.

Cain accepted it and took his hit, though not as deep of one as Strife, “Said their Daddy was an archeologist, they are on some journey in his memory. I could smell the lie across the fire.” He handed it back then leaned back on his cot.

“So what ya think? Arms dealin’? Or just mules?” Strife smoked enough pot to put most people on their ass. It kept him level and his temper under control.

“Not sure. Whatever the fuck they are up to, they’re nervous as long tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. They sure as hell didn’t like me shining a spotlight on them tonight. Don’t think they know we’re onto them in any way though.” He turned and flopped back on the cot to stare at the tent roof. “One of these years we’ll have an actual vacation. No bullshit.”

“No bullshit.” Strife said with a chuckle. He pulled off his boots then shirt as he finished off the joint. When he finally tossed the roach, he looked over at Cain, “Come ‘ere.”

Cain looked over at him, the words on his lips died there. He knew that look in Strife’s eyes and it was enough to make his own cock twitch. Cain rolled to his feet as he crossed the short distance between their cots to stand before the seated man. Strife just smirked up at him, “That’s my good bitch. Now strip.”

As Strife leaned back one hand dropped to squeeze his cock through his jeans as he watched Cain. The urge to punch him in his smug face did battle with the surge of raw need that was like a kick to the gut. He’d taken his boots off when he got to the tent so now he had to just pull his layers off. He wore a denim colored shirt over a sleeveless t-shirt. He unbuttoned it and tossed to the floor before he stripped out of the t-shirt. The sensation of the night air against his scars made him want to pull it back on, but that wasn’t what Strife asked him to do.

He could feel Strife’s eyes on him. He felt devoured by the man’s gaze. It made his mouth dry. Cain wasn’t artful about stripping. It was just the first step in whatever game Strife wanted to play that night. By the time he kicked his jeans and boxers to the side he was erect, his face hot, and his own eyes locked with Strife’s.

“Damn yer sexy as hell… ‘specially when ya look at me like ya wanna throw down as much as ya want me ta fuck ya.” Strife leaned forward as he grabbed Cain’s hips to pull him a couple of steps closer until the man stood between his knees. He leaned in as he pressed his nose against Cain’s stomach, just above his naval. Strife hummed softly as he just rubbed his face against Cain’s skin. “…smell good too…”

“Then stop wasting time… and fuck me already.” Cain said in a strained tone as he tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. He wanted to tangle his fingers in Strife’s hair and bring that talented mouth in line with his cock. He wanted to fuck that smug face and cum all over those lips. He wanted Strife to pin him down and fill him with that big dick. Bastard.

“Yer even sexier when yer mad as hell.” He kissed Cain’s stomach then leaned back again as he opened his pants to pull out his cock, “On yer knees… Oh… and hands on me or behind yer back. No touchin’ yer dick.”

Cain’s fingers curled into fists. Every single button. Strife pushed them all at once. For a handful of heart beats, he stood there and glared. One punch. Maybe knock a few teeth out. Bloody those smirking lips. Make those eyes that saw him too clearly swollen and purple. Instead he dropped to his knees, his gaze never wavered as he met Strife’s eyes directly. He moved closer as his hands moved from Strife’s knees, up his thighs, then he wrapped his hands around that heated cock. As Strife smirked, Cain leaned down to wrap his lips around the swollen head.

That taste hit his tongue. Strife’s scent filled his nose. He could call Strife a son of a bitch and a bastard all day long. But when it came down to brass tacks he couldn’t get enough of the jerk. When Strife’s hand moved to rest on the back of his head Cain growled so the sound vibrated through the other’s shaft. A low groan escaped Strife as he let his head fall back even as his hand began to exert pressure to push Cain down.

Cain had his hands wrapped firmly around that thick warm length. Each vein pulsed hot against his palms. Their bodies ran hot, almost feverishly so. The blood of the beast a powerful force that drove them, pushed them, compelled them. It led them into battle after battle and out again on the other side. It fueled the raw lust and need they had for one another. Always would they choose another wolf over an ordinary mortal. Someone who could take as much as they could give. Someone who would never shy away from a bit of bloodshed in their love making.

When he lifted his eyes, Cain watched the length of Strife’s exposed throat. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed. His tongue visible for the few seconds it took him to swipe it across his lips. When one of Cain’s canines scraped across sensitive flesh he listened as Strife gasped before it just seemed to melt into a groan. They had their games. Strife usually took the lead in bed while he was fine letting Cain lead elsewhere. In that moment as he watched Strife’s face transform as the pleasure built… he felt powerful. A power equal but different to what he felt even during the full of the moon. Strife was his. And he was Strife’s.

Cain lost himself in the act of sucking his lover’s cock. Anything beyond those tent walls may as well not exist. Not the camels, not the tourists, especially not those Libyans and whatever the hell they were up to. The world consisted just of himself and Strife. The taste of Strife’s skin. The smell of his sweat. The heat of his flesh as it passed through Cain’s lips. The urge to drop a hand to his own cock and stroke it in time with his attention to Strife grew by the moment. He wanted to climb into his lover’s lap, sit himself right down on the cock which pulsed in his mouth.

He had always had an egalitarian attitude with his lovers in the past. No set roles to play. Just do whatever felt best at the time. But with Strife it was so different. Strife controlled and consumed. He teased and tormented. He riled Cain up until the man felt ready to burst. Yet at the end of their games, both left well satisfied. Cain knew in the back of his head that Strife would fuck him again. Would suck his cock until he came in the man’s heated mouth. They would have days, even weeks of their normal activities before Strife riled him up again. It only made Cain want him more.

Cain could sense that Strife was growing closer. The sounds he made. The way his toes curled against the woven rug in their tent. The soft growls which escaped him when Cain’s cheeks caved in as he pulled back. Then the words which were a jolt to Cain’s loins, “Hands behind yer back.”

Strife’s command was breathless, barely above a whisper. But he expected immediate obedience and received it as Cain released his lover’s shaft and neatly folded his hands at the small of his back. Strife shifted on the cot without pulling his length free of Cain’s mouth. He stood but hunched over as his fingers tangled in Cain’s thick curls. Held his lover’s head in place as he began to fuck Cain’s mouth, his length forced into Cain’s throat. It wasn’t long before Cain felt his face heat from the strain and lack of air. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he drew in quick breaths when Strife’s hips retreated before they pushed forward violently. He didn’t completely bury himself in Cain’s throat, but enough of his length went down that it was noticeable from the outside.

He wanted to beg. He wanted Strife to hurry. He wanted Strife to push him over and fuck him until they both came, hot, sweaty, and sticky. Strife’s game continued. Both hands dropped to Cain’s head. His nails raked across his lover’s scalp as he fucked his mouth without obvious regard. Cain felt so light headed he distantly wondered if he would pass out before Strife finished. Then with a snarl Strife tensed up. His cum spilled down Cain’s throat, on his tongue, and as Strife withdrew, one hand stroking his length, he spilled the rest on his lover’s lips, chin, and chest.

Strife’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim lantern light as he looked down at Cain. His thumb brushed over Cain’s lips to smear the pearly white up the man’s cheek. “Damn yer a mess…” His voice a soft purr. “Leave it on ya tanite. Ya can wash yer face n’neck in tha mornin’… but leave tha rest.”

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be pissed. He should punch the fucking red neck in the dick. Yet that wasn’t what escaped his lips as he looked up, “…Strife…” His mind cloudy, his eyes unfocused. Cain wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Strife’s scent.

The smile that touched Strife’s lips, for once, wasn’t a smirk. It wasn’t mocking. It was fond, almost compassionate. He knelt as he cupped Cain’s face in his large rough hands. Strife leaned in and kissed Cain’s brow. Both eyes as they closed for the affection. The tip of his nose. Then his lips. It was still Strife’s demanding, controlling, consuming kiss. But there was so much more beneath it. So much emotion that neither could express in words. Emotion that neither had ever felt for any other living being before they’d found one another.

Strife pulled Cain onto his cot with him. Let his lover use him as a pillow as his arms wrapped protectively around a man who didn’t need the protection but loved the gesture nonetheless. No words spoken between them, none needed. The world could burn to ash while they had one another. Cain still felt that raw ache deep in his loins. That need to fuck his lover. For the moment, he was content right where he was.

Chapter 5

Friday, January 19, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.3


Outside the sky was grey as dawn approached. When the sun rose so would the heat. It wasn’t the guides seeing to the camels that woke Cain though. It was Strife pushing him onto his stomach, lifting his hips, and fucking him hard and fast with his freshly lubed cock. Normally Cain didn’t mind a good morning fuck, when he wanted and expected it. This though had him snarling as he tried to pull himself away from Strife. Only for Strife to capture his arms once more and hold them at the small of his back. Cain cursed the man up one side and down the other even as he felt his own pleasure rise in response to the hard fuck. Then… Strife paused.

When Cain looked over his shoulder he saw that shit eating grin on his lover’s face and knew what he was doing, “I’m going to kill you.” Cain snarled as the intensity of the pleasure he felt simmer down to a dull throb instead of a mighty roar.

“I love it when ya talk dirty ta me.” Strife purred as he resumed the relentless fuck. Each time when Cain felt an orgasm approach the bastard either stopped or changed the angle of his fuck to deny Cain that pleasure. Even when Cain tried to hide it from the man, Strife seemed to know. By the time Strife pulled out to spill across Cain’s back, his lover was angry enough to chew iron and spit nails.

Strife leaned down, “Now don’t go washin’ that off now… and no jerkin’ it.” Then he gave Cain a shove as he stood up.

For a few moments Cain just lay there with an ache for release in his loins. He heard Strife pull on his pants then head for the tent exit shirtless. He grabbed one of his boots, twisted around and lobbed at Strife’s back with all the force he could muster. It hit with a smack hard enough to leave a red imprint of the boots treads. That son of a bitch just laughed as he headed toward one of the fires where there was coffee.

Cain seethed and stewed. He could smell Strife’s spunk on him. In him. His sensitive sense of smell wouldn’t let him ignore the scent. Nor could he ignore the feel of the seed as it cooled and slid down his back. He glared at a canteen of water where it hung from the tent pole. He could wash the stink off and rub one out before he went about his day. But something held him at bay.

“I’m gonna plant my damn boot up his ass.” He snarled as he stood and grabbed his clothes. Cain knew why Strife did this. It was why he took the damn name Strife. What had he said? A teacher told him as a boy that he caused chaos and strife where ever he went. Well it was sure as fuck true. Cain wanted to bite something, someone. Instead he just dressed and when he left the tent he retrieved his boot to pull it on as well. Unlike Strife, he didn’t wander around half dressed.

Others from the tour group were around the breakfast fire. The backpackers all looked like they’d started their day off with some Mary Jane. The Smith kids were being whiny little shits and when Cain walked up to the fire to get coffee and maybe some breakfast he watched as Strife leaned over to whisper something in the ear of the little tart who had tried to flirt with him the night before. Her giggles put Cain even more on edge. He took his coffee and breakfast then stalked off for some privacy.

For a breakfast table Cain settled on a carved stone block which thrust out of the sand. Probably some ancient relic and he put his heel on it as he sipped his coffee and watched the sun brighten the horizon.

Are you sure they will be there?” A whispered voice said in Italian behind a toppled statue.

If they are not this will all be for naught.” Responded the other before the two men emerged from behind the broken statue. The one who spoke last zipped up his khaki’s as he saw Cain.

From the scent of urine in the air they had used the statue as a make shift latrine. Cain didn’t think it was a good idea to let them know he understood Italian as he lifted a hand in greeting, “Howdy. They got half decent coffee back there.” He used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the rest of the camp.

Grazie.” The man said with a nod. At least one of them understood English, good to know. They made their way back up to the rest of the camp as Cain concentrated on his breakfast. He’d lived too damn long to not have a healthy paranoia. He maintained a placid expression until the two of them were far enough away.

Cain shoved the rest of his food in his mouth then downed the coffee. All around the camp site tents were going down, the camels were being readied. They had three long days of travel before they reached their destination, the guides did promise there was more to see than sand and rocks as they would stick close to the Nile. They really should have taken the jeep.

He found Strife over by the fire where he just finished up his morning smoke. The man’s smirk as Cain walked up was almost enough to make him turn around and storm off. Strife knew that Cain had obeyed his little command, it showed in his eyes as they raked possessively over the other. He had to ignore that, and ignore his spike of anger as he walked up to the man, “Keep an eye on those two.” He slid his eyes over at the two Europeans before back to Strife. “I don’t know what they are up to, but it has my hackles up.”

Thankfully Strife knew when to tease, and when to listen. He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the still smoldering coals of the fire, “Tha one with tha ‘stache… he’s got a .45. Small of his back.”

Weapons were not out of the ordinary. He and Strife were both armed as well. They both carried guns and Strife never went anywhere without his big ass bowie knife. That Strife had noticed was one of the many reasons Cain knew he could trust the man with his back. “I think they’re expecting to meet someone on the road. Listen out for anyone getting close.”

“Maybe we’ll get ta raise some hell on tha trip as well.” He pushed to his feet where he towered over Cain. Strife rolled his shoulders then cracked his neck. “Been a while since we had a good throw down.”

“Yeah, maybe. Just remember we got civilians on board as well. I don’t think Mr. Higginbotham or Mr. Smith would be much help during a firefight.” Cain let a smirk touch his lips. “How bout you see if you can fall back some. Keep an eye on our six. I’ll keep an eye on our friends over there.”

Strife gave a sharp nod then stalked off. Cain rubbed the back of his neck as he looked over their traveling companions. The guides would do what they needed to protect their investments. But would probably cut and run if things got too hot. The backpackers were useless hippies, probably pacifists. He thought he’d seen a West Point ring on Mr. Pierce. He’d need to confirm that and possibly give the man a heads up. Of course, he’d also seen the way the man talked to the guides and looked down at everyone with skin darker than bleached flour. He didn’t have time to deal with a racist piece of shit.

The trip was to be a fun jaunt into the desert. Do some tourist bullshit. Take a lot of pictures. See things they might never see again or at least not for a long time. And instead his paranoia was high and shoulders tense. If this turned out to be nothing he might kick the asses of those two fools just for making him tense.

“After this… I pick the next vacation and there better be hot tubs and cuties serving drinks in bikinis.” He mumbled to himself as he made his way to his camel. It brayed at him and it took all of Cain’s self-control to not just punch it in the nose. He didn’t think the guides would like that. Once the beast was on its feet and the rest of the caravan ready to move the sun was over the horizon and the night time chill banished.

The journey along the Nile was breathtaking. They could see the stark difference between the barren desert and the lush river basin in each mile they traveled. It was no wonder it had been home to such a prosperous civilization that lasted so long. They saw crocodiles that looked large enough to eat a man whole, hippos which the guides warned were more dangerous than the crocs, gazelle, zebra, and so many birds. Cain kind of wanted to see a lion, but none appeared.

By the time they stopped for lunch the Smith kids wanted the so-called vacation over. Cain had one of those moments when he wished his hearing was not so acute as he listened to the brats complain about the heat, the camels smelled, even the animals they saw were boring. They wanted to go home to air conditioning and more importantly television. Mrs. Smith made a snide comment about how she had recommended they take the resort vacation in the Caribbean but Noooo, Mr. Smith had to see Egypt. Had to drag the kids out into the sun and heat.

At least Cain wasn’t the only one annoyed by the Smith’s. The Pierce couple looked on in horror and he thought he heard Mrs. Pierce whisper to her husband they weren’t having any kids. Mr. and Mrs. Higginbotham chuckled behind their hands. Their kids grown and gone, they could now enjoy the suffering of others. The back packers were too stoned to care and the Europeans… they had wandered from the group to eat in private. Unfortunately, Cain could think of no good reason to get close enough to hear what they talked about.

Strife dropped next to Cain with a grunt before he leaned back on his hands. He’d stripped down to a sleeveless t-shirt which showed off the growing numbers of tattoos on his left arm. His skin had already darkened a shade or two just since they left Alexandria. Cain looked over at him with an urge to damn the man for being as good looking as he was. He was pretty sure even Mrs. Higginbotham peeked from behind her sunglasses.

“Careful…you’re giving the ladies the vapors.” Cain mumbled as he tore off a piece of flat bread to use it to scoop up whatever it was their guides had made for them. Tasted a little like goat.

Strife grunted in response as he looked around at the group. Tourists to one side, their local guides to the other. “Talked to tha boy leadin’ tha baggage camels… them fellas ain’t European… They’re Libyan. And there’s an awful big fuss ‘tween this here country and theirs. But their money’s good which is all his Paw gives a damn bout.”

“Well ain’t that just grand.” Cain said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anything else?”

“Not really, cept they really wanted ta get ta Hierakonpolis. Didn’t give a rat’s ass bout Giza, but they got a hard on fer gettin’ further south with a quickness. Even to tha point of tryin’ ta bribe tha kid’s old man to take them on ahead and leave tha Americans.” He looked over at Cain, “What’s that say ta you?”

“They’re meeting someone. They want to get there quickly, but took camels instead of a fucking car.” He used the flat bread the clean the sides of his bowl. “They don’t want authorities to know what they’re up to. In a car by themselves… they might get stopped and have to make a reckoning. Mixed in with some tourists and locals, ain’t no one gonna stare too hard at them.”

“Ayup. That’s what I figured too.” He grinned at Cain, “Want me ta try n’get a whiff of their luggage when we camp tanite?” Strife was a big man but he could move with deadly stealth when he had a reason to.

Cain nodded, “Be careful. We’re still outsiders and I don’t want to have to get into a fight if we can avoid it.”

“They won’t even know I’m thar.” He pulled his sunglasses down his nose as he watched the Smith girl walk by in a pair of capris that hugged her hips and ass tight enough that even Cain took notice. “Damn that’s a nice ass.”

“She’s too young for you.” Cain glanced over at him.

“Maybe. Still nice ta think bout what I could do to that ass.” He looked over at Cain, “Or are ya jealous?”

Cain snorted. “Please. I have nothing to be jealous for over some slip of a girl who couldn’t even handle you. You’d take your britches off and she’d run for the hills thinking there was a python in your pants.”

Strife’s laugh was loud enough that others looked in their direction but no one asked what he found so amusing. When he had his humor under control once more Strife leaned in closer to Cain, “Not like yerself can, huh?” He inhaled slowly as he was close enough that Cain could feel the man’s breath against his neck. “Damn I love it when ya smell like ya just been fucked. All sweat n’musk. Can ya still feel it? What ya feel when I’m balls deep in ya?”

The concern over the two strangers had been enough to distract Cain from that ache and need which Strife had left him in that morning. The scent of camels obscured the scent of Strife’s jizz that was now dry and crusty on his back. He turned his head to look at Strife. They were close enough it wouldn’t have taken more than a tilt of Cain’s head to kiss the man. “You’re an asshole.” He responded as he got to his feet and went to take his now empty bowl back to the ones in charge of feeding them on the journey.

Strife’s amused laugh followed him. That man knew exactly how to get under Cain’s skin in both good and bad ways. The drama had distracted from what Strife had done to him that morning, now he could think of nothing else but just how horny he was. In his annoyance, he wondered if the hippy chick who gave him the eye would be up for a go. Just to shove it in Strife’s face that he couldn’t control him. But Cain knew he wouldn’t. Whatever it was that got him off with the games he and Strife played, he knew he couldn’t just fuck someone like that. He could punch the smug bastard in his face though if he kept it up.

After an hour break they were on the trail again. At times Cain could almost pretend they were back in antiquity. He might even have had distant ancestors who had traveled that same path to trade with the Egyptian Kingdom. The fantasy dispelled every time a jet plane passed over head, a boat with a diesel engine that belched black smoke passed them on the Nile, or the sound of vehicles on the modern road close enough that he and Strife could just make out the sounds.

By the end of the day when they made camp for the second night on their journey Cain agreed with the kids. This was bullshit. They should have taken the jeep. Could have already been to their destination and on their way back to Alexandria in the time it took them to make it not even half way there.

When the sun set and they all gathered to eat Cain just wanted to eat dinner then fall into bed. But when the two Libyans joined the group he remembered there was other business to take care of. He caught Strife’s attention and gave him a subtle signal to move his ass.

Strife being Strife shoveled the rest of his foot into his mouth, “Y’all excuse me… I gotta take a shit.” The announcement met with a mix of revulsion and humor. Cain just smirked and shook his head.

When the man was out of sight he poked at his meal a few more moments. Then he looked around, “So… I know the Higginbotham’s are here for their anniversary. The Pierces on their Honeymoon. We got us the Smiths on vacation thanks to a prize. What about you two?” He looked over at the Libyans with an expression of mild curiosity.

The two men exchanged glances before they turn back to Cain. The one with the mustache spoke for the pair as his English was better, “My…brother and I. Our Father was… University Professor. Archeologist. The last site he worked upon before his death. Hierakonpolis. We have never been before. This our first trip.”

To Cain it sounded and smelled like a well-rehearsed lie. “Well damn. I bet your old man would be right proud of the two of you. Honoring him and all like this.” He took a bite of his food and asked while he chewed, “Why didn’t ya drive?”

The man looked away briefly before he answered, “Papa’s first journey down the Nile was on camel. We do the same. To be close to his memory.”

Around the fire it was easy to see the others believed it all. There were smiles and nods. Cain joined in as he wondered how they came up with that line of bullshit. “I hope y’all find whatever peace it is you seek on this trip.”

“What about yourself Mr. Jackson?” Mr. Pierce said from his side of the fire. Cain and Strife always used fake identities. He was Mike Jackson and Strife was Flint Stone on this leg of their journey. How no one saw through those absurd names was a testament to the gullibility of human nature.

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Well Flint and me did some mercenary work in Cambodia right after the war. Spent two damn years working for the spooks looking for POW camps. Found a few. Off the records. But those big prisoner transfers in 74? Yeah... It wasn’t a transfer. They was just bringing our boys home without giving up the ghost about what really went down.” Cain told a tale that wasn’t too far from the truth. He and Strife spent a lot of time tromping through jungles setting their former comrades free. But they did it because they wanted to, not because they were working for the CIA.

“Really? And you’re just telling us?” Mr. Pierce toyed with that West Point ring.

“They paid me to keep my yap shut in Cambodia, not Egypt. Besides… even if you went to the reporters back home. Who the hell would believe you?” He smirked.

“I see. But how did you get from Cambodia to Egypt?” He asked as he leaned back.

“Oh. Well they didn’t exactly give us first class tickets home. So, we’ve been doing the tourist thing mostly. Spending our blood money whoring, gambling, and drinking.” Cain met Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze and winked.

The Smith twins looked on with stars in their eyes. The adults were more dubious and that last bit had a few shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. “I simply asked a question. You didn’t have to make up a tall tale.” Mr. Pierce grumbled.

“Who says it’s a tall tale? There’s a string of whores between here and south-east Asia still smiling and walking bow legged after spending the night with Flint.” He chuckled as Mrs. Smith fumbled while she attempted to cover the ears of her sons who ducked and dodged her hands. “Seriously… the man’s got a third leg in his pants.”

That sent Mrs. Higginbotham into peals of laughter. She had to wipe tears from her eyes with a hanky she pulled out of her ever present purse. “Oh, don’t scowl so you fuddy duddys. It’s funny. I like these two young men. I can tell. They are good boys.” She reached over to pat Cain on the arm and he just smiled. He could tell she meant well though he wondered how she would react if he told her he was probably twice her age.

Strife returned and dropped down where he picked his bowl back up. He met Cain’s gaze only for a moment before he acquired seconds from the communal pot then shoveled more food in his mouth.
“Everything come out alright?” Cain asked drolly.

“Trains left tha station on time.” He mumbled around his food as the twins were unsuccessful at suppressing their giggles. Their Mother, of course, looked mortified.

Mr. Smith decided to change the subject to a different topic as he questioned others about their favorite baseball teams and who they thought would go to the World Series that year. Cain ignored the conversation as he finished eating. Various sports were not a subject he kept up with. When he was able he excused himself from the circle and retreated to his tent.

Chapter 4

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Werewolves On The Nile Ch.2

“You want me to ride What? For how long?” Cain looked up at his lover as both wore mirrored shades against the desert sun. He could feel the heat as it beat down upon them, at least the hat he wore kept the worst of it off his head.

“What tha fuck ya got against camels?” Like everything else in life, Strife found amusement in his lover’s outburst and reluctance to ride one of the camels who lined up and waited for the tour group to leave for their trek to the pyramids and beyond. Strife had a camera hung around his neck with extra film tucked into pockets. He was having a grand time on their excursion.

“You mean other than that they smell and that one over there already spit at me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “I thought we were taking the jeep out to the pyramids not going on a god damn excursion over half of Egypt.”

Strife was a good fourteen inches taller than his lover, he towered over everyone but the camels. A few of their fellow tourists and a couple locals had asked to take a picture with him. He’d even picked up one grey haired old lady in a flowered straw hat like she was a bride. By the time he had put her down she giggled and blushed like a school girl. Her husband looked less than pleased, but had still taken the picture. When he loomed, he cast a long shadow. “This here’s more authentic experience n’shit. Five days out, then we take a boat back down tha Nile. How many times ya gonna say ya got ta ride a camel?”

Cain almost snapped back that he had ridden one, years before. But he still hadn’t told Strife exactly how old he was. He’d admitted he was older than he looked while explaining what the man could expect from his new life, but not everything. Not yet. With a growling groan, he threw his hands up, “Fine, whatever. We’ll ride the damn camels. Go on your damn tour.”

“See? Ain’t it easier when ya just agree? Maybe we’ll even find yer sense of fun.” Before Cain could argue Strife had already turned to head for the camels. He got on the camel assigned to him and grinned ear to ear as it leveraged itself up to its feet.

Cain just threw his hands up in the air once more. That stubbornness he so admired in Strife was often what annoyed him the most. When it was his turn to get on the camel’s back he leaned forward, “You dump me beast... I’m having camel steaks for supper.” The beast made some half bray half something else entirely sound before it too got to its feet.

The journey to the pyramids was hot and entirely too many flies tried to take a bite out of Cain. But every time he looked ahead to where Strife rode he couldn’t help but smile at the man’s obvious enjoyment. Strife’s camera clicked as he took numerous pictures. He even twisted around to take pictures of Cain and others in the caravan. It was probably the happiest Cain had seen Strife outside of a battlefield.

When the pyramids came into view an excited murmur went through the group. Even Cain had to admit they were damn impressive. By the time they reached the base of the largest structure there were other groups there as well. As the camels knelt everyone dismounted and spread out. Cain caught up with Strife as he just stared up at the pyramid with a hand over his eyes to shade them.

“What ya think it was really like buildin’ these things? Was it like they show in tha movies ya think?”

Cain looked up as well before he spoke, “I met a vampire once. Claimed he’d been in Ancient Egypt. But really… half the blood suckers you meet make claims like that. But this one… he seemed sincerer than the others and not so much bullshitting.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. “He said that yeah there were slaves, but not like everyone thinks. Building pyramids was… of national importance. When the farmers weren’t farming, they showed up for few weeks or months to help out. Then went back to their farms again.”

“Huh…Met a fella once that claimed all tha pyramids n’shit were done by aliens. Cause there was no way normal folks could do it.” He looked down at Cain with a grin, “I called ‘em a lyin’ bastard an’ punched his lights out.”

A smile touched Cain’s lips, “You’re a violent son of a bitch Strife. But I guess that’s what I like about you.”

“That an mah big dick.” He didn’t give Cain time to answer as he wandered closer so he could climb the outside of the structure to get better pictures of the other two pyramids.

“There’s more to ya than that Strife.” Cain just muttered as he joined him. They climbed. They explored. Strife took pictures of everything and took even more pictures of Cain with everything. They even had one of their guides take a picture of them together. He wouldn’t admit it to Strife directly, but he was glad they made the detour. It was the first time they did anything just for fun since they went AWOL five years before in 72.

That night the tour group made camp just a short distance from the pyramids. As their guides and hosts were preparing the evening meal Cain and Strife got to know the rest of their group a little better. The grey haired old lady and her equally grey husband were Mr. and Mrs. Higginbotham from New England. Mr. Higginbotham had just retired from the bank and the trip was their 50-year anniversary trip. There was another couple on their honeymoon. Blonde haired, blue eyed, Mr. and Mrs. Pierce stuck close to the Higginbotham’s as if they could somehow soak up good marriage vibes via osmosis. They called San Francisco home. A family of five, the Smith’s couldn’t get more stereotypical American. Mr. Smith was a car salesman in Ohio and the trip was a prize he’d won for having the highest something or other the previous year. Two boys, twins, maybe 12. And a teen girl who looked to be about 16 and kept giving Strife goo goo eyes.

Cain found himself half tempted to let her try to get whatever she thought wanted from Strife. Little girl was playing with fire. But he didn’t want to have to deal with Daddy Smith getting pissy cause the red neck had deflowered his daughter. Of course, it would be even worse if he found out Strife’s Daddy had been a black man and he wasn’t just that tan because of the sun. Or it would be amusing as hell. Maybe when they made it back to Cairo. Give the girl something to really remember from her vacation.

There was a trio of Ivy League university kids, back packing their way across Europe and elsewhere. They’d already bought some pot off Strife. They could use the cash, especially after the expense of the tour. But the ones who continued to draw Cain’s attention were two men who sure as hell didn’t look or act like tourists. They had an European vibe, spoke Italian, which Cain knew enough of to follow their conversations. They could give two shits about the pyramids and that area. But they sure as hell looked forward to getting to the archeological site further south. He had yet to hear why.

During dinner Cain mostly remained quiet as he just listened. Mr. Smith had produced business cards from somewhere and handed them around. If anyone found themselves in Cincinnati they needed to stop by his dealership. He’d get them into a brand-new car. Cain just tucked the one that ended up in his hand into a pocket to dispose of later. Strife used his to pick some lamb out of his teeth. Mr. Smith did not look amused, though his kids found it funny.

After dinner finished, Mrs. Smith herded her kids off to their tent. Little Susie or whatever her damn name was did not seem pleased and spent the entire walk trying to convince her Mother to let her stay up. Cain was glad when they went into their tent and the whining muffled. Then one of the backpackers produced a guitar and when the music started he excused himself.

In his and Strife’s tent, he stood next to his cot as he undressed. As he pulled his boots off Strife came in and closed the flaps after. “Boy sounded like a damn cat that done got their tail stepped on.”

Cain chuckled, “Well let him keep the others occupied… Oh. Be sure to check your bed and boots for scorpions, they crawl….” His words cut off as Strife wrapped his arms around Cain’s torso from behind and pulled him close. “…into everything.” Cain finished breathlessly as Strife’s hand glided down his stomach to grip the crotch of his pants and squeeze. “…damnit Strife…someone could hear…”

“Then yer just gonna hafta be quiet.” Was his amused retort as he quickly unbuckled Cain’s pants. “Though I suppose I could just give yer mouth somethin’ ta keep it occupied…”

“I think my mouth was plenty occupied… when I gave you head in the shadow of the Sphinx…” Cain hissed as he could hear someone walk by their tent.

“Mmmm… that was nice. But just an appetizer. Now I want me tha main course.” One arm moved away from Cain as he reached up to turn the lantern down where it hung from a poll. Then Strife’s hands finished their removal of Cain’s clothes before he knelt behind his lover. His lips danced along the heavy scars that marred Cain’s back. His teeth scrapped along the raised flesh as his large hands played over the front of the other’s body from shoulders to thighs. For all that Strife gave the appearance that he was a selfish bastard, he was an amazingly generous lover who enjoyed just exploring and worshipping Cain’s body as much as he did fucking him.

“If you’re so damn hungry… then why don’t you suck my cock.” Cain spoke to tease, but then he should have remembered that Strife always called him on his bluffs. With hands on hips forced Cain to turn around and without preamble his mouth engulfed the head of Cain’s shaft as he was the one to delight with his tongue while his hands now kneaded the other’s ass.

“…oh, fuck me…” was all Cain could say as his head fell back and he buried his fingers in Strife’s thick head of hair. Now that they weren’t in the Marines anymore he was letting it grow out. Already it fell just past his shoulders when tugged straight or wet. When he didn’t have it contained in a ponytail his hair looked as if he’d just stuck his fingers in a light socket. Strife’s hair couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be straight, wavy, or curly so it was all three and there was a lot of it. “Strife... I need to sit down… lay down… something.”

Without releasing Cain’s flesh from his eager mouth Strife picked him up only to put him down on the ground. A low growl escaped the man as he took Cain to the root then drew back slowly as his cheeks caved in with the force of his suction. A high-pitched whine escaped Cain as he lifted his legs to wrap them around Strife's torso. He might have complained that he didn’t want to cum yet, and if Strife kept that up he would. But he’d learned that Strife would have just ignored him anyways. Making Cain cum as many times as physically possible seemed to be Strife’s drug of choice when he wasn’t smoking weed. It was easier to just give the bastard what he wanted, so Cain didn’t even try to hold back as his hips jerked with each pull he felt from Strife’s mouth.

Strife supported Cain’s hips and lower back with his arms as he worked his mouth along his lover’s length. While he did not yet have the pure gold eyes that Cain did, they did tend to lighten from their normal dark brown to a lighter, almost amber shade when he was excited or the full moon neared. What little light there was in the canvas tent reflected off those eyes as they watched Cain with a predatory hunger. Cain had never met anyone who fell so naturally into the mindset of the wolf than Strife did. He’d changed others in the past, but none took to it as well as Strife. A few had gone mad and had to be put down. He didn’t have that worry with Strife. What had taken him decades to master, Strife learned in a handful of years. He’d have the gold eyes soon enough. He and the beast would be one sooner rather than later.

“…fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” Cain growled under his breath as he tangled his fingers in Strife’s hair once more. He tugged on that thick hair as his hips jerked up against that insistent mouth. The tip of his nose went numb as his toes curled, and like an explosion of fireworks behind his closed eyes he reached his peak. Cain went still, his body trembled as he felt Strife’s throat work to swallow his seed before he just collapsed with a groan. “…asshole.”

“That’s what ya like ‘bout me.” Strife said as he pulled off Cain’s cock with a wet slurp. As he moved over Cain’s body he looked down at his lover with a smirk. “Ain’t it?”

Cain lifted an arm to brush his thumb over the stubble on Strife’s jaw, “Yeah…it’s one of the things.” His hand moved around to cup the back of Strife’s neck before he pulled him down into a kiss. He could taste the salt of his seed on his lover’s tongue and lips. The hint of tobacco from the cigarette Strife smoked after dinner. The spices used in that dinner. Beneath it all the scent and taste that was Strife.

As their mouths clashed Cain’s hands got to work helping Strife out of his clothes. Their lips only parted for the length of time it took to draw the man’s shirt up and over his head. As Strife worked his boots off, Cain was opening his belt and jeans. When he could finally wrap his hand around Strife’s hard thick cock he groaned as he stroked him. Strife was the largest lover he’d ever had, in more than one way.

Their kiss only paused long enough for Strife to fish the lube out of a pocket of his now discarded jeans, then he was back to dominating Cain’s mouth with his own. His tongue wrestled with Cain’s. He caught Cain’s lower lip with his teeth. Then as they kissed he controlled Cain’s arms until he could grab both of his lover’s wrists in one hand. Cain smiled against Strife’s lips, he liked it when Strife took control. The only man he had ever fully submitted to.

Strife slid off Cain and pushed him up onto his side. He kept Cain’s head tilted back toward him though as the kiss continued. Now that free hand moved possessively over Cain’s body. He squeezed Cain’s chest as he growled against the other’s lips, “Mine.”

His hand smoothed down the other’s chest, over his stomach to grab his cock and balls in his large hand as it hardened once more. “Mine.”

Cain felt his breath catch in his throat as Strife laid claim to his body. Each declaration was a bolt of lightning to his loins. His face heated. When Strife’s hand squeezed his hip and growled that. “Mine.” Cain whimpered.

There was a small pause then a lube slick finger circled the puckered flesh of Cain’s anus before it pushed into the man’s body, “And this?” Strife seemed to purr.

“…yours…” Cain was breathless as his arms jerked against the grip of iron that held his wrists in place. Damn the man. How did he push Cain’s buttons so well? He was a child compared to Cain. A man just barely in his 30s while Cain had seen well over a century of life. Yet he seemed to know exactly what Cain wanted and more importantly needed.

“Damn straight…” Strife whispered as a second finger worked its way into Cain’s body. Then three. The only time Cain did not feel those insistent fingers was when Strife added more lube. His face buried against Cain’s shoulder and neck. His lips and teeth left marks on dark flesh as Cain kept his lips pressed firmly together to not alert anyone outside to their tryst. Damn thin canvas walls.

“…Strife…please…” Cain whispered, a note of desperation crept into his voice as his body twisted in pleasure.

“Please…what?” Was the growl against Cain’s ear.

Damn the man. Damn him to hell. There were days Cain wondered if Strife could make him cum by voice alone. He wasn’t yet ready to test that theory. “…please…fuck me you shit.”

Strife chuckled. Endlessly amused with life and how he made other people feel. Yet his fingers drew out and the head of his now lube slick cock pressed against his lover’s flesh, “Fuck me you shit…what?”

There was a line that Cain would not cross. He had never expressly laid out that line to his lover, but Strife was perceptive enough to not force Cain across it. Did not mean he wouldn’t dance along that line from time to time to make Cain squirm. A low growl escaped Cain as he pushed his hips back to push himself onto that cock. But Strife pulled back to tease and deny him. A string of curses disparaging Strife’s name and lineage escaped Cain’s lips, but Strife continued to deny him. Even as he let his shaft slide against Cain’s ass and lower back, he wouldn’t give Cain what he wanted… yet.

“…remind me to kick your ass tomorrow…” Cain muttered as he licked his lips. He turned his head to look up at Strife where he hovered just over him, that damn cocky grin on his face. “Fuck me…Sir.”

Cain would never call Strife Master. It was the line he wouldn’t cross. But Sir. Sir he could do, even if it was reluctant at times. The magic word spoken, Strife gave Cain just what he wanted. He lifted Cain’s leg to rest the foot on his own hip as he pressed forward. His hand guided that thick shaft as he forced the tight ring of muscles to open for him. Even as he entered his lover his other arm moved as he brought his forearm to Cain’s mouth, knowing he would need the assistance to muffle his sounds. Cain immediately bit down on the arm presented to him. A thin trail of blood ran down Strife’s arm as Cain’s teeth pierced the tanned flesh.

Short slow thrusts as Strife worked his way into Cain’s body. His own growls muffled against the flesh of Cain’s shoulders and neck. Outside they could hear the backpackers still singing by the fire. Someone had a damn tambourine. Fucking hippies. None of that mattered though as Strife fucked his lover. Sweat beaded on their flesh as they strained against one another in the chill desert night air. Strife left a line of love bites from just below Cain’s ear to his shoulder.

As the initial discomfort of first penetration settled into the rising heat of pleasure Cain’s mouth left Strife’s arm. Blood stained his lips as he whispered Strife’s name in supplication. His annoyance washed away by the pleasure the other man gave him. He wanted to touch him. To rake his own nails across Strife’s paler flesh. But Strife continued to hold his wrists trapped as he took what he wanted and Cain could only endure. Could only submit.

When Strife’s lube slick hand closed around Cain’s cock he whined even as his back arched and his body went as tense and taut as a bow string. There were days when being as small as he was annoyed Cain. Especially when Strife was being particularly assholish. But then there were times like that moment when he looked down at his own body and could just make out the shape of Strife’s cock moving under his skin. For some reason that was always a bolt straight to the crotch as he felt his balls tightening up in preparation for another orgasm.

“…Strife…please…please…” Their games didn’t specifically require him to ask for permission for an orgasm. He would cum because Strife wanted him to cum. But he knew it gave his lover a certain thrill for Cain to ask. There were plenty of times when Strife made Cain wait for his completion. It all depended on the other’s mood.

Strife felt generous that night as his hand worked up and down Cain’s length to match the pace of his own thrusts as they sped up. His breath was hot against Cain’s ear as he growled, “Cum fer me mah little bitch.”

He was going to punch him for that, even as it sent a thrill up and down his spine, knowing he even called himself Strife’s bitch from time to time. Cain’s fingers curled into fists as his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. His toes curled then spread reflexively as he felt the numbness and heat spread. Even as his breath caught in his chest he turned his head to seek out Strife’s lips once more. When Strife’s mouth closed against his own, when the man’s demanding tongue pushed into his mouth. With all his senses consumed by the man called Strife… Cain groaned against Strife’s mouth as he climaxed hard, his seed splashed onto the woven rug beneath them before Strife squeezed out the rest onto his hand.

Thankfully Strife didn’t hold back. He had been known to keep Cain riding his cock for hours. The man’s stamina had been supernatural even before Cain had transformed him. But that night it was only a few more minutes before Strife buried himself within Cain’s body. His hips gave small spastic jerks as he found his peak. Only when it had passed did he release Cain’s wrists, but he didn’t let the man pull away. Strife remained buried in his lover’s body as his arms wrapped around Cain to hold him close. His face against the back of Cain’s head.

As sleep slowly claimed the pair Cain just heard a whispered, “…gawd damn I love you…” He smiled to himself but didn’t say anything in response. He knew just how hard it was for Strife to admit such emotions.

Chapter 3