From Morocco to Paris (10 page)

“You know how hot it gets in this country.” Davey walked over to the vanity and started pulling drawers open. “And you know how you sweat through everything.”

Zane went over and slammed the drawers shut, though they were empty now.

“I don’t sweat through my clothes!” Zane pushed him away from the vanity. “Stay out of my damn drawers!”

“Why? You got something to hide? Sex toys or something?”

“No, I packed those already.” Zane returned to his suitcase on the bed, tossed the shirts aside, and closed the lid. “Did we get married or something? I know I was pretty drunk Saturday night. Did I miss something?”

Davey flopped on the bed next to his suitcase. Zane zipped the lid closed.

“Didn’t you wonder where that ring came from?” Davey asked.

“I thought it was your cock ring.” Zane twisted one of the many rings on his fingers. “It’s so tiny.”

Davey lifted his hand and extended his middle finger. Zane pulled the suitcase off the bed.

“You’re not supposed to say things like that to people you’re fucking,” Davey informed him. “It could be taken the wrong way.”

“You’re not supposed to be messing with my stuff while I pack. It could be taken the wrong way.”

Zane lugged his suitcase to the door and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until the car came to pick him up. Davey followed, bare feet slapping on the floor.

“Are you gonna miss me?” Davey asked as he stood in front of Zane, hands on his hips, rocking on his heels. He locked his gaze with Zane’s, clearly refusing to let him get away without an answer.

“Like a neutered dog misses its balls.”

Davey pinched Zane’s nipple hard through his shirt. Zane yelped and jerked back.

“Fucker!” Zane said.

Davey smiled sweetly. “That’s for saying I have a little cock.”

Zane scowled and rubbed his nipple. “You were annoying me when I said that. Not that you aren’t now.”

“I don’t have a little cock?”

“What do you think?”

Davey moved in closer, so the heat from his body seeped through Zane’s shirt. He smelled like soap and sweat.

“How come you never say anything directly?” Davey asked. He slid his hands over Zane’s chest, soothing the nipple he had pinched, now hard. “You never give me a straight answer.”

“I have a hard time calling anything straight around here.” Zane lifted his arm and checked his watch over Davey’s shoulder. “I got to go.”

Davey fisted his hands in Zane’s shirt and pulled him closer, so their mouths were nearly touching.

“Tell me you’ll miss me,” Davey whispered.

Zane hesitated, looking so closely into Davey’s eyes they were a smear of blue and white. Zane never liked to give a straight answer because admissions gave Davey too much of an advantage.

“I’ll miss you,” Zane said softly. He slid a hand around and patted Davey’s ass sharply. “I’ll miss this.”

“Asshole,” Davey said. He closed the remaining inch between their lips and gave Zane a hard kiss.

Zane’s mouth tingled when Davey pulled away, but he had been released from his clutches at last.

“Call me!” Davey yelled as Zane carried his suitcase down the hallway.

“I’ll fucking call you!” Zane hollered back without turning around. The elevator doors were just opening and he hurried to catch the car.

“Goodbye, Mr. Alexander!” He heard Davey call.

“Fuck you!” He hoped the people coming out of the elevator didn’t speak English. They looked startled nonetheless.

“Please?” He heard Davey yell as the doors slid shut.

Zane slumped against the wall of the elevator, suitcase at his feet, and shook his head.

***

Shooting in the desert had ended, and they made a return to civilization to enjoy a week off in Melilla. The week now over, Saul wanted to button up several issues at once, most of which involved retakes and pick-ups. This meant several crews in several places and Zane had to go to Marrakech with Elliot. Three days away from Davey and he had a cozy room in a nice hotel, and only had to spend a few hours a day doing actual work, mostly catching up on Elliot’s correspondence. He had no complaints. Some time away from Davey could only be a good thing -- it might sort his head out, help him regain his will, his determination not to become involved on set.

They were also heading to Cairo to continue principle filming the following week, so Zane wanted to take in as much of the Moroccan culture as he could.

After getting checked in, he went out and did some sightseeing and shopping with members of the camera crew. He bought some more gifts for his family, and then, though he didn’t intend to tell Davey, he purchased a dark green djellaba. One of the girls on the crew told him the color suited his skin tone -- though he suspected his skin tone wouldn’t last once he left Africa. They stopped for drinks on the way back, then Zane returned to his room, unpacked, and called his mother, leaving him with roughly an hour to shower and dress before he met everyone for dinner. He decided he’d need all of the hour to get ready and couldn’t possibly call Davey.

They had dinner in a little restaurant next to the hotel, packed with people and glowing with lanterns strung through the rafters, and Zane tried so many different kinds of food he couldn’t keep track of all the dishes. The girl who had encouraged him to buy the djellaba sat next to him, and they chatted while they ate. She had a beautiful smile.

Zane found reason to kill himself when, after having a few drinks with her at the hotel bar, he begged off the invitation to her room by saying he needed to get some sleep. All he could think about were Davey’s words on the balcony.
When you leave here, you can carouse with all the women of the world. You know you will. Why not enjoy this side of yourself while you’re here?

He went back to his room and took some aspirin -- only two, not enough to kill him -- as his head ached from the noise in the restaurant. He thought of how he could be in bed with a nice, naked female. Instead, he sat in bed alone watching television and trying to forget Davey’s phone number.

What the hell has that bastard done to me?
His father had the answers. Zane tried to shut him out.

He thought about going back down to the bar. But if the girl had hung out there -- he couldn’t even remember her name -- she’d try to get him back to her room again. He didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Elliot preferred Cristiano’s company, and everyone else he knew with any level of intimacy was back in Melilla. There were just the voices in his head, heralding the first signs of insanity.

Finally, no longer able to find excuses, he turned down the television and picked up the phone. He got Davey’s voicemail.

“Fucker,” he said into the phone. “You want me to fucking call you, and then you don’t even answer!”

Only after he hung up did he realize he sounded horribly like a peeved boyfriend.

He ordered up a bottle of whiskey from room service and tried on his djellaba. The color did suit his skin tone, but the garment felt strange -- too much like a dress -- and he took it off before they brought the whiskey up. Maybe he’d send the djellaba to his brother, since it was tailored for a man.

Zane was drinking straight from the bottle and watching
Jeopardy
dubbed in Moroccan when his phone rang.

“It’s about time you called,” Davey said.

“You called me.” Zane snatched up the remote and turned the television down.

“You called me first though.”

“And I got your stupid voicemail.”

Davey chuckled, and Zane mentally kicked himself. There he went again.

“I got tired of waiting for you so I went to get some food,” Davey said. “It’s impolite to take your cell phone to dinner.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Zane flipped through channels on the silent television.

“So, how’s Marrakech?”

“Same as it was the last time we were here.” Zane put the remote down, settling on some program with two men driving down a road, the subtitles at the bottom not in English. “We did some sightseeing today. I wanted to take it in one last time before we go to Cairo.”

“I should come when I’m done working here. We can take one last tour together.”

Zane didn’t commit, nor did he say no. One last go in Marrakech would probably be nice, actually.

“So, it sounds like you’re having a good time,” Davey said.

Zane heard rustling on the other end.

“Yeah,” Zane said. “Went to dinner tonight with everyone. Met this gorgeous woman on the camera crew, hung out with her for a bit.”

“Oh, really?” Davey sounded amused. “Did she think you were gorgeous too?”

“She seemed to.” Zane thought about telling him the story of the djellaba, but then he would have to admit he bought one.

“How come you’re not in her room right now?”

“She was tired. There’s a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“I see.”

Zane scowled in the following silence.

“She was!” Zane protested. “Besides, I’m tired too. A lot of work to do tomorrow, like I said.”

“How come you aren’t sleeping?”

Zane really wished there were a button on the phone he could push and give the person on the other end an electric shock.

“You told me to call you,” Zane said testily. “Besides, how do you know I wasn’t sleeping when you called?”

“You don’t sound like you were sleeping. Plus you picked up on the second ring.”

“Now I’ve called. And I’m going to say goodnight, goodbye, pleasant dreams, whatever.”

“Just like that?” Davey’s voice dropped a notch, to a level Zane’s crotch responded to. His crotch listened better than his ears, and Davey knew this. “No phone sex?” Davey asked.

Zane rolled his eyes. “Is that why you wanted me to call you?”

“What did you think? Of course!”

“Well, you’re out of luck, because I need to go to sleep.”

“You don’t know how to do it, do you?”

“What?”

“You don’t know how to have phone sex.”

Zane snorted. “What is there to know? And how do you know what I do and don’t know?”

“You’ve never done it before.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Then why are you so reluctant?”

“I told you, I need to get some sleep!”

Truthfully, Zane
hadn’t
engaged in phone sex before, because he preferred the real thing to talking. He heard Davey’s soft breathing on the other end.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m wearing?” Davey asked.

“You could tell me you’re wearing anything.” Zane looked down at himself. “I’ve got on a pair of raggedy old pajama bottoms and my watch. That’s the truth. Not very sexy, is it?”

“I like that watch.” Davey’s voice had grown lazy and slow. “I’ve got an imprint of it on my left hip. Last time we were fucking, you had it on, and it was digging into me when you were reaching around me.”

Zane started, a warm tingle rushing over his body. He looked down at his watch, the light from the bedside lamp glinting on the surface.

“You don’t,” Zane said.

“I do,” Davey said huskily. “I’d show it to you, but it’ll probably be gone by the time you get back. I could always send you a picture.”

Zane wasn’t sure what to say. He swallowed.

“I’m not wearing anything too impressive either actually,” Davey said. “A pair of shorts, and your t-shirt.”

“Huh?”

“One of the shirts you tossed away on the bed. I grabbed it before I followed you out. It smells like you.”

“Damn thief.” Zane’s voice came out weak.

“Good choice of fabric.” Davey hissed. “It’s nice and soft when I pinch my nipples through it.”

Zane tried to stay calm. Yes, he needed to go to bed. His cock, however, woke up.

“Davey…”

“If you were here, would you make me take it off?”

“Probably, it’s my damn shirt.”

“Tell me,” Davey whispered. “Tell me to take it off.”

The heat in Zane’s stomach spread downward. He cleared his throat.

“Take it off,” Zane said.

“Take what off?” Davey asked, soft and taunting. “Tell me. Say it.”

Zane closed his eyes. After a moment he said gruffly, “Take my shirt off. Your shirt. My shirt. Take it off.”

Zane heard rustling and shifting on the other end. He didn’t realize he had his breath held until Davey came back on and he let it out.

“It’s off,” Davey said. “You want me to take anything else off?”

Zane glanced at the clock -- still relatively early. Just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt…

“Take your shorts off,” Zane said.

“But that would leave me naked!”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll take my pants off too.”

“Yes, do that.”

Zane put the phone down and wiggled out of his pajama pants, silly as the whole thing seemed. He kicked them off and across the bed. His cock rose to greet him. He picked up the phone again.

“They’re off,” Zane said.

“Mine too,” Davey said. “Now that we’re naked, what shall we do?”

“Davey,” Zane said, and hesitated. “All right, I’ll admit it. I’ve never done this before.”

“Not a problem. I’ll talk, you answer.”

“All right.” Zane grabbed up the remote and flicked off the television. “So.”

“So. If I was there, what would you like me to do?”

Zane tried to think of something non-ridiculous. Davey’s voice came back before he could answer.

“What do you like that I do to you?” Davey asked. “Do you like it when I suck your cock?”

“Yeah, I like that.”

Zane slid down on the pillows a little, closing his eyes to absorb the soft lilt of Davey’s voice.

“Are you on the bed right now? Are you sitting up?”

“Sorta lying down.”

“That’s good, I can crawl up between your legs.”

Zane spread his legs, glad Davey couldn’t see him.

“What would you do then?” Zane asked.

“First, I’d lick your balls, while I ran my hands over your thighs, all up and down them. Can you feel my tongue? How hot and wet it is?”

Zane shivered and slid a hand down his stomach. “I can imagine it,” he said.

“Then I’d lick all the way up your shaft.” A wet lapping sound on the other end. “Swirl my tongue all around the head…nice and slow, just the way you like it.”