he doesn't want this, doesn't, no, but it's easier, yeah, easier not to. josh is here, he's here, and he could turn around and look, if he wanted. he could see josh, and that's the important thing. seeing. come over, josh had said, come over and join me, it'll be fun, your friend orlando is here and it'll be... yeah, it's hot, days're long, man, shoot's a bitch, and we're in a dry country, can you imagine? but there are other things. other ways to pass the time, and i want you to meet eric. eric. should've known, should've fucking known, man, josh was never that generous, never that fucking friendly unless he wanted something. or someone. bait, man, that's all elijah'd been, but he'd gone, packed his bags and gone. because josh asked, and it was easier than saying no. easier, right, this was easy. relax and inhale, breathe and let it out. the smoke plumed in incandescent shades of blue, reflecting off the hotel sign, reflected off the glass. mirrored letters blinked vacancy-vacancy against the curtains, which billowed in the slight breeze. if elijah squinted, he could see the reflection of the room through the window, glowing blue, neon and shadowed, shadowing the two curled bodies on the bed. curled and wrapped and curling into each other, warm and he doesn't want this. but i'm not, he'd said, and josh had smiled and said, no, of course not, of course he wasn't, how tweaked was elijah for even suggesting, but he could at least come and meet the guy, right? and josh was right, of course he was, rude not to meet him, meet this eric guy, this friend of josh's. friend, exactly, they were all friends, of course they were. come and meet eric, we'll smoke some weed, kick back, shoot the shit, and it had sounded easy when josh had said it. easier to say yes, let himself be tugged into the room, easy to sit down and pretend to be comfortable around their comfortableness, their very obvious comfortableness with each other. hi, i'm eric, heard a lot about you, and he should've said, yeah, hey, nice to meet you, should've waved and smiled a distant smile, kept his distance. instead, he'd held out his hand. it was quiet here, quiet not like l.a. got quiet, but not quiet the way new zealand had been, either. morocco silence was silentsilent, like all of the air had been sucked into this deep-black sky. oppressive silent, made elijah's skin itch. like maybe he'd be sucked up, too, never to be heard from again. and there were so many stars, man, so many he'd lost count, even though he and orlando had tried one night. one night, they'd tried, because it had been easier. easier than pretending not to be aware that josh and eric'd been nowhere around. eric and josh, and could that be any more of a joke, man, funny in that ironic, not ha-ha way. they were nothing alike, weren't they? weren't they, he asked orlando, and frowned when orlando just clapped him on the back. they weren't, though, they couldn't be. could they? elijah glanced at the reflection in the glass again, could make out the blurry, blue-tinted edges of the two bodies sprawled on the bed, on each other, and he thought maybe, well, maybe. if he concentrated, he might be able to see just josh. after the weed, though, after taking a hit, then another, and another after, because it had been easier than not, and one joint passed around, then another lit, everything had blurred together. lines and boundaries and time, until josh had said it. five little words. no, elijah'd wanted to say, no, that's not, and i'm not, and i thought we were, and how could you... i thought. but he'd looked into those too-bright eyes, looked at josh, and the words had died when eric had hauled him on the bed. the first thrust, rough and clumsy, more than a little impatient, had hurt, fuck, it had hurt, eric was big, bigger than josh, would split him in two, but then eric had started moving, and it had been easier, better, to bend and curve into each thrust, into the heat and strength of an unfamiliar body, an unfamiliar cock. wide fingers had spread his ass open, and it had been better, yeah, better, once elijah'd gotten used to it, everything in slow-motion. relax, josh had said, whispered, welcome voice in his ear, and elijah'd found it was easy to do once he'd concentrated. easier still when eric had sat on the edge of the bed and draped elijah over his body, around his cock, splayed him out and open, thighs on either side of eric's. the contrast in skin tone had been different, pale and golden brown, different and not what he was used to, and he didn't, man, he wasn't. this wasn't. then josh had settled between their spread legs, and it was easier not to think, easier to look down, watch josh through half-lowered lashes, watch the bob and weave of josh's head in time with eric's hips, josh's tongue over and on and around, josh watching him, josh looking at him, and everything had been alright. long as he could see josh, everything would be alright. everything's gonna be alright, he murmured to himself, and crushed out his cigarette on the windowsill. he flicked the butt out onto the street, and thought about another. just one more, even though the breeze was a little too cold, and he was cramped from sitting in one spot for too long. cramped and more than a little sore. cramped and sore and thinking, wasn't that a great combination? but, yeah, it hadn't been so bad. no, not so bad at all. he glanced through the window's vacancy-vacancy reflection again, and twisted, finding josh's eyes open and on him. come back to bed, josh said, and held out a hand. the other was splayed, open and possessive, on eric's hip. easier to let himself be led.
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