30
Ya Allah, does she know what she is doing, Darius thought as the scent of her sex poured into him as he buried his nose and mouth between her legs, his arousal so strong that he was salivating like a dog in heat. He roughly pulled the thin satin of her gown away, gasping at the sight of her dark triangle of brown curls, her red slit almost glowing in the light of the flames. He took a deep breath of her sex and began to lick her with the flat of his tongue, running up and down her slit lengthwise until she was so wet he could see her juice glistening on her soft, creamy inner thighs.
Above him he could feel Ephraim leaning over and kissing her, pinching and pulling at her breasts. Ephraim was on his knees up on the bench beside Jan as Darius licked her from the ground, and soon Darius could feel Ephraim’s fingers down near Jan’s crotch as he licked her there.
Jan moaned to the heavens as Ephraim slid two fingers into her even as Darius kept licking her, and Darius knew she was going to come soon, come hard, come for them. For both of them.
Suddenly it hit Darius that Jan had heard them and she was fine with it?! What did that mean? Was she truly prepared to choose whichever Sheikh’s seed rested in her womb first? Did she see no difference between Darius and Ephraim? Were the two of them simply tools, machines, beasts of burden to give this queen what she wants?
The thoughts were mad, and Darius tried to remind himself that he was on a drug. But the thoughts kept coming as he tasted her from the inside, driving his tongue into her vagina as he felt Ephraim rub her clit roughly and pull at her matted pubic hair as he fingered her. Jan was moaning loudly, writhing in their arms, her soft thighs closing and opening wildly against his face. He glanced up for a moment and saw Ephraim holding her throat as he kissed her, still fingering her with the other hand, and from the way Jan’s buttocks were shuddering from the tongue and fingers inside her, Darius knew she was about to come.
He kept going, pushing his face deeper into her crotch as his erection surged to full hard. Darius wanted to take her now, hard and deep. He wanted to fill her like he’d done on the plane that first time, on the boat earlier that day. How many times had Ephraim fucked her, he wondered as a momentary rush of anger blasted through him. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, and he pulled his face away from between Jan’s legs, his eyes going wide as he raised his head and stared up at Ephraim kissing her hard, biting her lips, licking her cheeks as she moaned and shuddered. She was already starting to come, her moans turning to wails as her orgasm came screaming in while Ephraim curled his fingers up in her, rubbing her clit furiously with the butt of his thumb.
Darius sat there on his haunches, taking deep gulps of air as he stared at his rival kiss and finger his woman, his queen, the one he’d chosen. Did she even care who was fucking her? Did she even notice he’d backed away? Did she even—
“Darius,” she moaned suddenly, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to focus, one hand reaching out into empty space, her fingers clawing desperately at nothing as she tried to reach for him. “Where are you? Don’t stop. Please.”
Her need was real, and Darius’s cock flexed involuntarily at the sound of her plea. Ephraim turned and looked at Darius for a moment, and Darius saw that same flash of anger in Ephraim’s peaked face, that same mix of jealousy and competition. Ephraim was naked too, his cock flexing hard as their queen called for Darius. It made Darius almost laugh in delight, because now he could feel that wild, manic, almost violent arousal that he instinctively understood only came to be when a man was competing for a woman at the most primal, fundamental, physical level. Through the throes of his ecstasy and the madness of the aruha, it really seemed like the presence of another hard cock was making him want her more, need her more, lust for her in a way that might never happen with just one-on-one sex.
It is that primal sense of competition, the need to make sure that it is indeed my seed that makes it to her womb first, Darius decided as he grinned at Ephraim and then spread Jan’s thighs and pushed his face against her wet crotch again. Both Ephraim and I feel it, and it is like a drug in itself, yes?
Jan kept coming as the thoughts flowed through Darius’s head, and he could feel her fingers clawing at his thick hair, he could taste her juices flowing down the corners of his mouth, he could smell her sex so strong and clean that it was all he could do to clench his balls and not come all over the sandy ground of Noor Island.
Finally Jan pushed his head away and clamped her thighs shut tight as she shuddered through the death throes of her orgasm, and Darius pulled back and sat down on his naked ass. Ephraim still had his hand around her throat, and he was hard and throbbing, clearly trying to push her onto her back so he could enter her.
“No,” she whimpered. “I need a moment. Stop. Stop!”
Ephraim growled like an animal, and Darius tensed up when he saw Ephraim’s hand tighten around her throat. Jan opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Ephraim’s, and he growled again and tried to stare her down. They stayed like that for a long moment, Ephraim’s right hand tight on her throat, the head of his cock touching her naked belly, his left hand holding her breast, fingers pinching her nipple so tight it was white from the pressure.
Darius fought the impulse to stand and pull Ephraim away from Jan, throw him to the ground, kick him in the face, do whatever he needed to do to get him away from Jan. Is it because I want to protect Jan, or simply because I want to do to Jan what he is about to do, he wondered as he watched the two of them look into each other’s eyes before Ephraim slowly released her throat and stood down, grinning wide and nodding as he did it.
“As you wish, your highness,” Ephraim whispered, leaning forward and licking her cheek before backing away. He looked down at her naked body, creamy white and shining in the firelight. Then he glanced at Darius, grinning again when he saw how hard and ready they both were. “But I have right of first entry this time. Remember that.”
Darius smiled tightly, glancing at Jan and then back at Ephraim. “And you must remember that it is I who chose Jan, it is I who brought her to us, it is I who chose to share her with you.” His smile vanished when Ephraim turned to him and locked eyes. “And so it is I who will always have right of first entry.”
Ephraim held the gaze, and Darius could feel the heat build as the fire flickered and danced in the background. Finally Ephraim broke a grin, shrugging his powerful shoulders and standing up off the bench, shaking his head as he started to laugh. “No matter,” he said, walking over to the steel wine flask sitting on the sand. He took a long swig and shrugged again. “You can have right of first entry. It will not last long. Once she is with my child, first right will be mine.”
“Says who?” came Jan’s voice, cutting through the tension as both Sheikhs turned to her and stared.
“That is tradition,” said Ephraim, frowning deep, his eyes narrowing. “When a Sheikh takes four wives, the first wife always has pride of place. In the court, at the dinner table, and in bed. We made an agreement.”
Jan shook her head, smiling as she looked at Ephraim and then at Darius. “The two of you made an agreement, and so it stays between the two of you. You guys want to put your sperm in competition, go ahead. You guys want to agree that the winner—whatever that means—gets pride of place in the queen’s court? Great. I do understand that I’m not going to be some dictator ruling your kingdoms, that I’ll be a figurehead to a large extent, that the two of you will always be behind me, ruling your kingdoms through me. I’ll be ruling on your behalf, and I wouldn’t have it otherwise. I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own—it’s going to take me years to even become fluent in Arabic, for God’s sake. I understand that this is about perception and finding a way to combine your kingdoms without war and without making it look like either of you has compromised or yielded. So yes, I understand that the two of you will control how your kingdom is run, and I’m on board with that. It’s your right. But when it comes to my body . . . well, those rights are mine and mine alone. I decide now, and I will decide then.”
“The father to the heir will be first husband,” said Ephraim, shaking his head. “It cannot be otherwise.”
“He is right, Jan,” said Darius. “There are precedents. History. The way things are done.”
Jan smiled, her brown eyes shining in the light of the fire, her skin glowing from the sweat and heat generated by their three bodies. They were all naked, sitting by the fire, beneath the stars, the angels and devils of the Golden Oasis watching them.
“All right,” she said slowly, glancing at Ephraim and then Darius. “All right. First to father an heir is first husband. Are we happy now?”
“We are happy,” said Ephraim with a grin. He glanced at Darius and then down at his cock, which was still hard and heavy. “Though only one of us will be happy when the inevitable takes place and my seed proves to be the stronger.”
Darius grinned back at him, and his cock stiffened at the call to compete, the energy surging through his hard frame as if a million years of evolution was spurring him forward, reminding his body that the history of man can be boiled down to the simple contest of one man’s sperm against another’s.
Darius stood to full height, and he saw the way Jan gasped when she glanced at his thick cock, his heavy balls, his broad chest, flat stomach. She is yours, came the thought from that ancient part of himself. Yours, and perhaps yours alone.
“She is mine first,” came Ephraim’s rumble from his left, and Darius glanced over to see the younger Sheikh on his feet too, facing not Jan but Darius himself. For a moment the two kings stared at each other, their cocks erect and angry, balls heavy and ready, green eyes glazed with the madness of the drug, the craze of lust, the fire of pride.
Time stood still as the two naked beasts stood illuminated by the dancing flames, and from the corner of his eye Darius thought he could see shadows moving in the dark desert plants beyond their circle of light. Imagination? Hallucination? The snakes of myth? The ghosts of lore?
This is our Garden of Eden, is it not, Darius thought as he looked into Ephraim’s eyes and swore he saw the devil, the Shaitaan himself. Or perhaps I am the devil, came the thought as he caught the image of Jan sitting naked on the bench watching them, a half-smile on her face. There were three players in the Garden of Eden, yes? Adam, Eve, and the devil. And there are three players in this story, yes? So if she is Eve, which one of us is Adam and which one the devil?
The thoughts almost drove him insane as he stayed locked in on Ephraim. The Old Testament and the Quran shared the same stories, the same characters, the same players, and all of it spun together and ripped apart as those shadows danced and clapped in the background. Have we both taken a bite of the apple, tasted the forbidden fruit, begun our descent, our fall from grace, he wondered as he saw Ephraim lean his head back and roar with laughter. Jan was laughing in the background too, their sounds of mirth coming through to Darius in waves, the ripples taunting him, exciting him, terrifying him.
He thought of that case with the guns and knives, wondering if that was the only sane course of action at this point. Was he really going to hand over his throne to a woman he’d known a few weeks? Was he really going to share his kingdom with a beast like Ephraim? Was he really going to send his small army to be slaughtered in battle with Ephraim’s hordes if they invaded? No. How could he do any of that? The only sane option would be to end it here, to end it now. To end Ephraim. To take one life for the good of millions. It was the way of a king. The way of a leader. The way of a Sheikh.
He blinked and cocked his head as the visions grew stronger, and although Darius knew it was the aruha affecting his judgment, he could not break his thoughts away. It seemed so simple. Why twist and turn your way to a solution when the answer can be arrived at directly, with one bullet or a single slash to the throat? Is that any less insane than the situation you have already engineered? Do it, Darius! Do it!
The Sheikh half-turned as he swore he heard the words whispered as if from outside himself. The dark bushes beyond the fire seemed to be moving, and Jan’s laughter was piercing and shrill. Too shrill.
Suddenly he realized Jan wasn’t laughing at all. She was screaming! The realization came to Darius slowly, and he turned as if in a dream to see where Jan was pointing. Then he saw it: There on the ground, slithering and shining, gold and black, long and twisted.
Ephraim was still laughing when the snake approached him, and everything seemed to move in slow motion as Darius watched the viper’s fangs emerge and sink into the brown flesh of Ephraim’s calf.
Perhaps you will not need to do anything at all, came the thought from the darkest reaches of Darius’s mind as he watched Ephraim’s laughter fade, his expression changing to one of confusion as the snake’s poison entered his system. Perhaps this is fate, destiny, Allah deciding who is the true ruler of these lands, the true Sheikh of the Golden Oasis. Do nothing, Darius. Let fate take its course.
Darius stared as Ephraim sank to his knees, naked and bronze, his green eyes clouding over as he clutched his calf. The snake was gone, its tail disappearing into the bushes as Darius wondered if all of it was an hallucination brought on by the aruha.
Jan’s screams were still shrill in his head, and she was saying something that for the life of him Darius couldn’t interpret. His eyes were locked on Ephraim, his rival, his enemy, his . . . his co-husband? His partner in marriage? His brother? His friend? His family?
You decide, came the whisper on the warm desert breeze that drifted in from over the dark waters of the oasis. You started this, and you can decide how it ends. You can decide if you follow through or back out, if he is your enemy or your family, if he is Adam and you are the devil.
Perhaps we are both the devil, he wondered as he saw Jan scream again and then get up and run toward the guesthouse, still saying something he couldn’t understand because of the blood pounding in his temples. Or perhaps we are both Adams, the first men in the story, a new story, a new epic, a new way. You decide, Darius. You decide.
And as if spurred by something beyond logic and sense, Darius felt himself step forward, toward Ephraim, his fallen enemy. He reached down and grabbed Ephraim’s hand by the wrist, pulling it away from the wound as Ephraim tried to hold it there.
Let the poison run through his veins and stop his heart, came that whisper from the devil inside, the devil that lives inside every man, whispering at times of crisis, offering an easy way out of every hard choice, reaching out a gnarled hand to pull man from his eternal state of grace.
“No,” rasped Ephraim, his eyes red and wild as he stared up at Darius. “What are you doing?!”
“Let go,” said Darius. “Let go, brother. It will be all right.”
Ephraim looked confused and scared, and for a moment Darius felt like an older brother. A warmth poured into him as he smiled and looked deep into Ephraim’s eyes. Then Darius took a breath, and without any more hesitation, went down on his knees, put his mouth over the snake’s fang-marks, and sucked out the poison just as Jan came racing back out of the guesthouse with the antivenom.