Thursday, January 18, 2018
Werewolves On The Nile Ch.2
“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.