Werewolves On The Nile

1 Alexandria

The window was open to let in a breeze, but it also let in the sounds and smells of the marketplace down below. His view of the area included scorch marks on the sides of buildings where rioters had burned everything they could get their hands on a few months back. Cain could hear the merchants as they called out to anyone who walked by their stalls. The buyers bartered and bickered over price as sellers tried to squeeze every pound possible out of the sale. The savvy on both sides eventually reached an agreement that met somewhere in the middle. Cain had more important problems than the price of saffron.

He had a map of Europe spread across the table as he pondered which port would be the best for their entry to the continent. They wanted the least amount of hassle and he needed to get in touch with his contacts who could get Strife and him some forged documents so they could return to the states. On top of the map, stacks of currency from six different countries were weighted down with whatever was handy. By his estimate they had a couple thousand in American dollars. But that was only if he could find a money changer who wouldn't try and stiff him. A hand-written list of ships that would enter and leave the port of Alexandria in the next week rested by his right hand. He wanted to figure out their next step so he could avoid the ulcer he knew wanted to form in his gut.

When the bed creaked, his head turned to look over at the one who lay sprawled out as he idly flipped through the pages of a book on the history of Egypt. Lots of colorful pictures and written with the tourist in mind. Strife had been quiet for the last hour, engrossed in his book, truly a rare occurrence. Cain leaned back to rest his arm across the back of his chair as he watched Strife. Five and a half years ago they'd met a quarter of the way around the globe in Vietnam.

Cain knew the moment he saw Strife he wanted him in a way he had never wanted another man. For three months, they played at rivals. Cain had taken the taller man down a few pegs as he'd been the first to knock the big man on his ass the first time they sparred. Oh, how he had savored the hate he saw in Strife's dark brown eyes that day. If the big man could have gotten away with it he might have tried to kill Cain. He had almost wanted him to try.

For three months, he had pricked at the man's pride. Bested him at every opportunity. Gauged his reactions. He watched as hatred slowly transformed into a grudging respect. Then open admiration. And finally, a humbled man had asked for instruction in how to do what Cain did so effortlessly. He was everything Cain had wanted. Everything he'd desired but had been unable to put into words.

They had been on a 3 day leave when Cain had made his next move. A short cut to the bar they were to meet their fellow soldiers led them through an alley. Cain had stopped and pushed Strife up against the wall next to a poster that promised dancing girls and hinted at other things that soldiers could enjoy for a little American money. Strife had been annoyed, ready to complain, but Cain had silenced him when he slid his hand down the front of those dress blues. That had been all that was needed. His back had ended up against the opposite wall as their mouths had clashed. That first time had been hurried, desperate. He'd marveled at Strife's strength as the man threw him around like a rag doll to fuck. By the end he was grateful for his nature and his ability to heal from nearly any wound. Strife had been bigger than he'd anticipated and they hadn't paused for lube.

They'd left the alley and ended up holed up in a cheap Saigon motel for the entire three days of their leave. In between the many fucks they had talked. About life, the war, their pasts, though at that time Cain had obfuscated his true past. It had been so perfect, like they had been made to find one another. As his gaze stopped at the wicked scar on Strife's shoulder he could taste the man's blood in his mouth again. It made him hunger for more than just another taste of his lover. He had made that scar when he had pulled Strife into the shadows where the truth of the world lurked.