Date: Thu, 18 Feb 1999 01:26:12 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Sheik of Desire, Chapter 3

                            Chapter 3
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                      "The Tribe of Rashid"

     Despite his vaunted ambition of learning to suck cock, Jezreel did not
offer and Pavel did not insist when the mist once again called to them.
Pavel found himself once again servicing Jezreel, sucking his cock and then
being turned over onto his stomach and Jezreel climbed on.  Pavel sighed as
the beloved organ slid into his body, large, hot and frenetic.  Jezreel
always moved as if sex had to be accomplished quickly, never offering the
least bit of slow lovemaking no matter how much time they actually had.
Pavel knew when the cock entered him that it would pump rapidly, and it
did, the long prong diving in and out of him and feeling so damned good!
If only Jezreel slowed down some...but then he wouldn't be Jezreel.
     Pavel grunted as Jezreel plunged into him again and again, smiling and
waving away the second angel's proffered cock at the railing.  The angel
seemed miffed but didn't insist, and went over to join Commander Sachsen.
Jethro slept on.
     Jezreel fucked him with the familiar vigor and Pavel wasn't too
disappointed when, too soon, the thick schlong erupted into him.  He could
have used a bit more time himself, but he hastily flogged his cock as the
hot jism poured into him, and when Jezreel lay gasping atop his back, Pavel
felt the familiar sweaty warmth holding him once again, and closed his eyes
and brought himself to his own climax.
     Jezreel held him tightly until he was done, then gently turned Pavel
over and they kissed.
     "Ah, you are so good." Jezreel breathed to him.  "My beloved, you and
I should be together always."
     Pavel found himself riding the brakes.  Was he ready for such a, what
was the word, monogamous relationship, as Jezreel wanted?  Was it even
possible?  He settled for an ambiguous answer, as Jezreel seemed to wait
for one.  "It's always good with you." he said, and Jezreel smiled,
reassured.
     "I should teach you some elementary words in Arabic." Jezreel said
after a brief space.
     "They don't speak Basic?" Pavel was surprised.
     "Yes, of course, but among ourselves, we speak Arabic.  It is the
language of the Koran and a necessary part of our religion, and thus of our
culture." Jezreel pontificated.
     "All right." Pavel said.  "What do I need to know?"
     "More than I could tell you in a short time." Jezreel said.  "But
we'll give some ordinary useful phrases, and count on their hospitality for
the rest of it.
     "All right." Pavel said, sitting at attention.  Other than the rushing
of the winds (which seemed to be kept outside the woven metal of the
railing--more angel technology?), there was only the grunting sounds of
Commander Sachsen who was being vigorously fucked once more.  Then the poor
guy would need to take on Jethro when he awoke.  Pavel really should take
advantage of Jezreel's hesitancy and offer to help out...
     "Asalam alaykum."
     "What?" Pavel looked at Jezreel.
     "Asalam alaykum."
     "And the same to you?" Pavel said/asked, grinned.
     "Thanks, but the response is 'walaykum asalam."
     "Could you repeat that?  Then explain what it means?"
     By the end of a half hour, Jezreel's smile had slipped substantially,
and Pavel possessed a meager supply of basic Arabic words.  He could say
"yes" (na-am), "no" ("lah"), and "lah lah-een, lah!" (No, damn it, no!).
He wasn't sure he was supposed to have learned that last one, but Jezreel
said it so often toward the end of their lesson.  His grasp was shaky on
the rest of them, though he learned that when someone said hello (asalam
alaykum), you should throw it back at them backwards, (walaykum asalam).
     Jezreel seemed near to tears at the end of the period, at Pavel's
hashing of his beloved mother tongue, and Pavel went over and put his arm
around him.  "We'll have more time later." He promised Jezreel.  "You can
teach me non-stop until we meet up with someone.  There'll be a lot of time
on the road for you to teach me, insha-allah (God willing)."
     For some reason, that didn't seem to reassure Jezreel very much, and
Pavel sensed that they'd been together a little too much just at that
moment.  He moved over to sit with Commander Sachsen while Jezreel stood
and looked pointedly over the railing.
     "How is it going?" Commander Sachsen asked him, grinning a bit too
widely for friendship.
     "I guess I'm not a very good student of Arabic." Pavel said.
     "You'll learn it." Commander Sachsen said, the blithe tone of a man
who had never heard another language and had never had any reason to learn
one.  "It just takes practice."
     "If you say so." Pavel said.  "Though I don't see what's wrong with
plain Basic."
     "Over there!" Jezreel shouted, pointing.  "Over there!"
     "What is it?"
     "The tribe I saw before." Jezreel said.  "They told me they would be
coming in this direction seven days ago."
     "Great!" Pavel said.  "Let's go, then."
     The angels brought their bower down gently.  Pavel saw that there were
several tents set up, in riotous colors, and moving among them were the
men, dressed uniformly in snow-white gowns.  He was reminded of the priests
of the Temple of Children, and that reminded him to look for children.
Yes, nearly half of those present were younger than ten, still growing, not
yet ready for the grunkels.
     At one edge a massive cluster of small red beasts nibbled the lush
grass of the plains, while they were guarded by more of the children and
some adults.  Another area had larger beasts, these more pinkish in color,
and their purpose seemed unclear, they were being fed by the men, and only
men, but not doing anything else.
     And third was the small pond they had set up near, which was ringed
with odd-looking trees.  It was like a single blade of grass had grown to
enormous proportions; it jutted out a single light-blue leaf which spread
out and caught the sky.  Some of the men had cut down one of these trees,
and were sawing off the broad leaf at the top.  Its inside was revealed to
be as white as the gowns they wore.
     There came a call and the men began to leave off their various chores
and go to greet their descending bower.  Waves of glad shouts came towards
them, and Jezreel was responding in kind.
     Obviously, they were old friends of Jezreel's, but when had he had
time to form such an acquaintance?
     Landing gave him no less of an impression of long acquaintance,
Jezreel was hugging and kissing the men and boys indiscriminately.  Pavel
climbed slowly over the railing, wondering what was going on.  The men gave
a gracious gesture to him, and he bobbed his head in response, not daring
to use his few words just yet.
     Jezreel was talking to one of the men, who appeared to be the oldest
man present, while their arms stayed around each other.  Pavel walked up to
them and the elder man turned his gaze onto Pavel.  He was a man with skin
darker than Pavel, his face weather-beaten and lined, but his grin was
genial and beaming, his snow-white hair framing his face, from hair to
mustache to long beard.
     "This is my friend, Pavel, son of Ivan, leader of my people." Jezreel
introduced him.
     Pavel seized the moment.  "Asalam alaykum." he said quickly, before
the man could say anything.
     "Walaykum asalam." the man said, beaming.  He then let loose a stream
of Arabic.
     Pavel shook his head, baffled.  "I only know a few words of Arabic."
he admitted.
     "You will learn more, God be willing." the man responded.  "I said
that Jezreel has told me much about you.  How is your father?"
     "He is fine." Pavel said.  He remembered another phrase Jezreel had
said was important.  "Al- hamduh-lilah. (Thanks be to God.)."
     "Good.  And your brother?"
     "He is well, al-hamduh-lilah."
     "And your father's man?"
     "He is well, al-hamduh-lilah." Pavel was feeling like a voice
recording stuck in a loop, but he had been warned by Jezreel that this was
the only proper response to this question, and that he could expect to be
asked this question often.
     "And the other two men who share your household, David and Lukas."
     Pavel was surprised.  He DID know a lot about Pavel.  "They are well,
al-hamduh-lilah."
     "And their sons, Osgood, James and Fortin?  And Pieter and Gregory?"
     "They are all well, al-hamduh-lilah."
     "Your entire tribe is well, then." the man said, paused.  Pavel saw
Jezreel looking at him urgently, but he drew a blank on what he was
supposed to do.
     "Come, you must be tired after your long trip." the man said, turning
away.  "Let me show you to my tent.  We will have a small meal for you."
     "What did I do wrong?" Pavel whispered when Jezreel stepped beside
him, the two trailing after the man.
     "You should have asked him the same questions." Jezreel said.  "Asked
him about his family."
     "I don't know his family."
     "It doesn't matter." Jezreel said.  "But you did well enough for the
first time.  Just next time someone asks you about your family, be sure you
ask about theirs."
     "What if their father is dead and I ask about him."
     "They won't say anything other than he is fine.  It's a ritual, don't
expect to hear about their problems, and don't tell them yours.  Not until
you know them a lot better than you do.  Just be amiable and trust in their
hospitality.  Part of our traditions are to respect other people's
traditions."
     "All right." Pavel said.
     The two Connobarans were not with them in the tent, and Pavel wondered
about presenting them as guards if they weren't anywhere around.  "Where is
Commander Sachsen and Jethro?" Pavel asked as they entered the tent.
     There was nothing inside for them to sit on other than some small,
hard-looking cushions. The cushions were riotous with colors and designs,
as were the hangings inside the tent.  In the middle of the room, a small
silver pot stewed over a tiny open flame fueled by some sort of oil.  The
scent was strong and almost rancid, but not unpleasant.  The old man sat
down on one as easily as if he had been a young boy, and Jezreel did the
same to the man's right, gesturing Pavel to his own right.
     The small pot held a sort of dark coffee-like substance, thick and
almost tarry in texture, they were given cups of the stuff, and Jezreel
indicated that Pavel was to drink all of it and then they took more.  Pavel
found the brew awful, but Jezreel drank it all heartily and Pavel mimicked
him, covering his gags as well as he could.  It was a relief when small
fruits were presented to them, larger than grapes but not quite as large as
an apricot or peach, perhaps an inch and a half in diameter.
     "What are these?" Jezreel asked, and Pavel was glad, it saved him the
problem of asking.
     "I just got a supply of them from the south a few days ago and knowing
that you, my dear friend, were returning, I saved some for you.  They are
marithra figs.  I must warn you that the mists of desire lurk strongly
within them.  So before you eat, choose."
     "Choose?" Pavel asked, surprised.  "Sorry." he grimaced to Jezreel.
     The older man clapped his hands.  "Our guests receive the best we have
to offer." he said.  "You are welcome, and we are honored by your presence
here.  Honor us in your turn."
     Pavel looked as the young men filed into the tent, summoned by the
sharp clapping.  They wore colorful garb unlike the white gowns Pavel had
seen so far.  There were six of them, and they were uniformly young,
handsome, and well-built, their skin burnished clean and smooth, their
bodies appeared clean of all hair save for their heads, where it was cut
shorter than the other men around them.
     "Is this your...harem?" Pavel asked.  The pain in Jezreel's face told
him he had guessed horribly wrong.
     "I am not a sultan to own a harem of beautiful men." the old man said,
his smile smaller but still present.  "These are the unmarried men of my
tribe.  All have been asked if they would be willing to entertain our
guests from beyond the mountains of the rising sun, and all have agreed.
Choose one, or two, or even three of them, and they shall be your servants
during your stay with my people."
     "I don't know how to choose." Pavel said, looking at Jezreel.
Jezreel's face was calmly placid, and he seemed uninterested.  Well,
Jezreel had made a point of calling their relationship friendship.  And he
couldn't offend this man by refusing his own kinfolk the honor of serving
him.  Jezreel was right, they had strong notions of hospitality, and these
bedmates were definitely hospitable looking.
     "Perhaps you would do me the honor of selecting for me." Pavel said.
"I know nothing of your customs and don't want to offer any offense here."
     "You could not offend us in this." the older man said.  "Any choice
will honor me, for they are all of my tribe, the tribe of Rashid."
     Pavel recognized this, from the lecture Jezreel had given him as he
was despairing of teaching Pavel Arabic.  Rashid had refused without
offering an alternative, he must press again and insist Rashid choose.
     "Please, you know your tribe better than I.  I am young and untrained
in such things.  Won't you select for me the man most able to care for me
in the days ahead?"
     He had guessed right, Rashid smiled at him widely once more.  "Let me
offer you the third one from the left, then." he gestured to a tall,
strong-looking man, who bore a small mustache on his lips, not growing it
as much as it appearing to be the first bloom of hair.  Pavel's own beard
was still wispy and composed of transparent hairs, he had shaved exactly
once in his life, and that was three months ago; he hadn't needed to since.
This man looked to have shaved a dozen times or so, and now the hair was
turning dark.  "Jassem bin-Rashid al-Nahyan."
     The young man bowed and looked pleased.  His eyes lit from within, the
same way that Jezreel's had when jealous.  Pavel looked again at Jezreel,
who was looking elsewhere.
     Jassem (Pavel had learned that you addressed all men by their first
names, the rest were merely "son of" and "grandson of" plus their
progenitor's names, and thus had no significance or respect attached to
them, recitations of immediate genealogy rather than anything else) came
over to sit by Pavel and Pavel saw that Jezreel had moved over to sit to
Rashid's left, where he was joined by another of the young men.
     Jassem took one of the figs and presented it to Pavel, showing it
rather than offering it.  Pavel looked at Jassem and smiled, and Jassem
took that as an acceptance, he then carefully peeled the fruit of its hard
rind and then lifted it to Pavel's mouth, cupped in his palm rather than
held in his fingers.  Pavel noticed that his left hand, which had held the
fruit, never touched anything but the hard rind, which was then discarded.
Pavel had been warned to only eat with his right hand.
     But here even a hand wasn't required.  Pavel bit into the fruit, found
it had no seeds in its core (he had noticed bulges in the rind--its
seeds?), and ate it down.
     He nearly swooned from the rich flavor, and also from the concentrated
dose of mist it contained.  All food on Desire held different amounts of
the mist, they had even used one particularly strong bearer of the mist in
their war with Connobar.  This wasn't that strong, but it caused the goat
of lust to rise up in Pavel, and he looked at Jassem, wondering how far
this service actually went.  Rashid had said that the fruit held strong
doses of the mist, so, "before you eat, choose!"
     Pavel reached and touched Jassem on his face, and Jassem smiled,
kissed the mound below Pavel's thumb as his hand was drawn outwards again,
kissing the pad below the fingers, and then the fingertips, three quick
presses of the lip.
     And another fruit was stripped of its rind adeptly, and again Pavel
was given Jassem's palm as his eating cup.
     Pavel leaned over and took the fruit boldly this time, kissing that
palm in the process.  Again the rich sweetness poured into his mouth, again
he felt the strength of his need grow.
     A third fruit, again, and this time Pavel's lips lingered at the palm,
took Jassem's hand in his own, kissed him thoroughly, tasting the leftover
nectar on his fingertips from the peeling, a sourness of the rind clinging
there, but sweetened by the taste of Jassem's flesh.
     Jassem rose, offered both hands to Pavel to clutch and rise up.  Pavel
did, finding his world reeling as he stood.  He looked around, moving as if
his feet were a hundred yards below him, ponderously, looking for Jezreel.
Jezreel was gone.  Rashid was talking to one of the older men, saw Pavel
looking, and smiled at him.
     "Come." Jassem said, guiding Pavel outside.  Through some miracle of
maneuvering on Jassem's part, they were soon to another tent nearby,
smaller, tall enough to stand in, but barely enough room around for a
single man to lie down inside.  Or two men to lie together, for Pavel saw
Jassem sitting down on the much-softer cushions this smaller tent boasted,
smiling up at Pavel, holding his hands still.
     "Come." Jassem said again.
     Pavel leaned down and nearly stumbled, to kiss Jassem who clung to him
carefully, guided Pavel to the cushioned floor of the tent.
     "Where is Jezreel?" Pavel asked.
     "Your wazir is with my second cousin." Jassem said.  "It is the one he
chose.  You asked my father to choose for you.  Are you happy with me?"
Jassem seemed to beg a "yes" answer to this question.
     "Yes." Pavel said willingly.  "I would have chosen you anyway, but I
didn't want to offend anyone."
     "You cannot offend us.  You are our guest." Jassem said.  "The sheik
of the valley of the sun.  You honor me."
     "I'm a sheik?" Pavel grinned.
     "You are the son of your sultan, yes?" Jassem asked.
     "Yes, I guess so.  My father is president of our valley." Pavel said.
     "Then you are a prince, or as we call it, sheik." Jassem said,
affirming it totally, with no hint of ability by Pavel to deny it.  "You
came here with your wazir and your guards to our valley for purposes of
your own.  My father is eager for an alliance with your people.  Let me
help you decide in favor of this alliance."
     "How?" Pavel was startled.  He had no diplomatic powers here, he only
wanted to know where their children came from.
     "Love me." Jassem said.  "Love me always."
     Pavel couldn't have resisted that enticement no matter what the cost.
Jassem's brief vest had fallen open, and the twin brown nipples begged him
to kiss them on that hairless chest.  Too hairless, Jassem must shave
himself, or depilate his body somehow.  But there wasn't the least rasp of
stubble on Pavel's lips as he encircled Jassem's left breast and kissed the
taut button that stood to prompt attention there.
     Jassem's hands were dancing marvels on his waist, Pavel felt his pants
giving way rapidly to that gentle urging.  He moved up to kiss Jassem's
lips, and were met by an ardor to match his own.  They were so warm on his
own, so completely kissing him, so...so slow.
     Jassem loved him slowly, a gentle tempo that permitted Pavel's clothes
to be wormed slowly off him, with no yanking away of them, no urgency about
any step of the process.  Pavel was in control, total control, Jassem let
Pavel decide when to remove that small purple vest, when to ease off the
almost-balloon-like trousers (not transparent by any means, but sensible
cotton-like cloth, when to press Jassem's naked body against his own bare
flesh, to feel their cocks meet each other in loving embrace, to roll
across each other and smear each other with their love-juices.
     Jassem's body was so smooth to his hands, so pleasant to his tongue,
so gentle were his caresses in return.  When Pavel felt good and ready, and
not a moment before, he moved his body into position and Jassem brought a
heavily lubricated hand up to massage Pavel's penis, coat it with the thick
oil, and then guided him undemandingly to the tight entrance between his
legs.
     Pavel pushed into Jassem, and Jassem sighed happily at Pavel's prong
pushing into him.  Pavel found the way pulsing in welcome, giving itself to
his presence, accommodating him at every move, Jassem giving himself away
completely.
     "Ahhh!" Jassem sighed as Pavel finished his pressing inwards, and
Pavel felt his balls kiss Jassem's buttocks.  "Ahh, my love, yes."
     Again there was no urgency on Jassem's part, though Jassem panted
heavily and seemed to shiver with his need.  It was left totally to Pavel
to move within Jassem, and Jassem promptly matched his rather inexperienced
thrusts with more of his own, in equal measure and tempo, a perfect match
right from the start.
     Pavel felt Jassem's bowels milking at his pud, and groaned with the
intense pleasure this entire act was bringing him.  "Oh, you are so good!"
He breathed into Jassem's ear.  "So very good."
     "I want to please you." Jassem said.  "Please let me please you."
     "No, let me please you." Pavel said.
     "You please me now." Jassem said.  "All I ask is more, more!"
     Pavel hunched harder at Jassem, who groaned noisily, happily at the
increased invasion into his body, no, not an invasion, a homecoming.  Pavel
felt the warmth of Jassem's body clutching him at all points, felt Jassem's
prostate as a small knob of touch, like the dropping of flowers on the
hero's head by the adoring crowd, he fucked harder, pressing that small
knob harder with his jabs into Jassem's body, and Jassem groaned.  "Oh, my
love!" he sobbed out.  "I cannot wait any longer!  Forgive me!  Uh, uh,
uhhh!"
     Jassem's entire body wafted in that orgasm, moving in sections like
waves over the ocean, and Pavel felt that milking action increase, now
demanding from him, now asking, pleading with him to give forth with his
seed, and Pavel groaned, felt his face heat up, humped at Jassem's gently
moving body like a madman, all finesse lost, and Jassem forgave him this
from the very start, and Pavel soon pumped his wad into Jassem, pouring his
jism into Jassem in heavy floods of salty, stinging, sticky sperm.  It
sprayed into Jassem, poured back out over Pavel's balls to fall on the
delicately scented cushions.  Pavel felt his sweat pour from his body as he
shot the last of his wad onto and into Jassem, and felt the sweat mingle
with the light sweat in the room, subverting and changing it, turning it
into a new, more primitive, less refined scent.
     But Jassem sighed happily as Pavel lay gasping atop his ample chest,
Pavel felt his sticky, wet hair being plumbed by Jassem's gentle fingers,
that twirled them together and touched the flesh below with the gentility
of spent ardor.
     "That was so good." Pavel said.  "I'm glad your father chose you for
me."
     "I hope you choose me as well." Jassem said.  "I would like to belong
to you."
     "You do, for as long as my stay here." Pavel said.
     Jassem looked at him yearningly.  "Longer even, I hope." he said.
     "What do you mean?  I don't understand."
     "Our people are in need of an alliance with yours.  I understood from
Jezreel's last visit among us that your people need us, as well.  You need
children, do you not, from us if you can get them?"
     "I didn't know you knew that." Pavel smiled.  "Yes, that's why we
came, to see how you have children."
     "We begin with a marriage." Jassem said.  "If you wish to see, you
will have to marry one of us.  Our peoples can seal a bond forever, with
you and with me."
     Pavel looked at Jassem, stunned.
     Jassem misinterpreted that look.  "I would go with you, not you with
me." he protested.  "I am but a third son, and you are first-born of your
father.  I would go with you, not you with me."
     "I'd better talk with Jezreel." Pavel settled for saying.  "He'll know
what to do."
     He hoped!
                         END OF CHAPTER 3