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 simmered 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 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 it 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 khakis 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 Smiths. 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. It 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. They 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.