A/N: This is the dress I am envisioning in this fic, but gold instead!
Minors DNI!!!
CW: Forced feminization, Femme Domme reader, reader implied to be AFAB, face sitting, riding, sub! Ahk, oral (Ahk receiving and him giving), orgasm control (Ahk receiving), overstimulation/multiple O's (reader)
You lure him into the Egyptian wing with a dark, seductive look in your eyes. He holds tightly onto your hand, eyes tracing the sway of your hips as you pull him towards your shared room. His breath quickens, and his eyes wander lower and lower- then, he sees the surprise you have laid out for him; your bed was surrounded by candles and smelled of floral musk; there was a soft, sheer, beaded golden dress laid out as well as a makeup bag and a bowl of freshly seeded pomegranate (aphrodisiac core).
Over the years, you have come to love his gentle way of showing love and making love to you, his eagerness to please you, and his unrelenting mouth and touch that takes you to the edge every time. However, you are a seductress, an enchanter, and trying new things excites you with the unknown. Oh, how you've longed to take him by surprise and change the pace. Now- Now, was your time.
"My Dearest Y/N, what are you planning this evening? I see a particularly enticing look in those eyes, my scarab." His mouth is agape with wonder, and his breath quickens as he scans the room.
"No need to worry yourself with the details, my love," you say as you lead him to the bed. "Just simply sit down like the good boy I know you are and trust my process." You push him deep into the mattress, keeping your eyes on his the whole time while you begin to straddle him.
"..Y-yes. Your wish... is my...command-" His eyes grow dark with lust, seeing you on top of him, and against his better judgment, he anchors his hands on the back of your neck, grips your hair, and pulls your lips to his. Kissing you feverishly, until just for a moment, you both forget the world around you. He knows just how to get you going and wants to pleasure you all night long.
Breathlessly, you start, "Ahk- baby- I told you to stay still." You lift your weight off of him and keep him pinned to the bed; your demeanor shifts, and you begin to give off an authority you don't exude often. "You should know better than to disobey your highness," you scold. His swollen lips begin to turn into a pout, dazed and confused from the kiss you just shared.
You begin to move towards the makeup bag and take out supplies for a full beat. "Now- I want you to strip your garments, put on this dress, sit up, and stay still." You pull him by his soft, dark curls so that he is now standing up, looking in awe of you and your power. His brows furrow, and it is unclear if he is a bit frightened or aroused, but alas, he decides it is both. He listens to your words, carefully removing each layer of his regalia and placing it safely on the floor until he is facing you with nothing but his linen loincloth covering his member. You take a moment to admire the scene in front of you - his chiseled abs, his strong but delicate arms, his shapely legs, and a now-growing bulge tucked inside his loincloth. He smirks flirtatiously as he sees you notice him. Almost as if he can see your arousal. With the raise of an eyebrow and a motion to the dress from you, he looks back down and begins putting it on his body. "Wait- take those off too." You point at the only garment in the way of you and his prominent penis.
Once he settles and sits down, the sheer gold-beaded dress leaves nothing to the imagination. His brown nipples pebble in the cool of the exhibit, his gaze electric, his penis fully erect against his stomach and glistening with precum under the soft light, messy and needy. His eyes follow your every move, eager to see what comes next. Your hands pick up the brushes and various powders and gels, and begin your work on his beautiful face. Once you get to his eyes, he begins to lean his head down and towards you, aiming to rest it against your chest; however, you pull his face back up by his jaw and keep a strong hold on it.
The anticipation builds. The wait is agonizing for his pulsating cock, especially seeing how you look tonight. Finally, you finish with a blue shimmer across his eyelids, mascara and thick dark cat liner complementing it, bronzer and blush highlighting his cheekbones, and lip liner and lipstick making his juicy lips look enticing. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it Ahk?" Suddenly, he looks more awake, a grin growing on his delicious face as he nods frantically, ready for you.
You grab his hands with haste and lead him to a floor-length mirror near the bed. "Look at yourself, my dear Pharaoh. Do you not look good enough to eat?" You turn him around quickly so you both get a view of his plump and juicy rear end. He gazes at himself, mouth agape, smile building, and grabs his face to appreciate the artistry. You cannot help yourself and give him a sharp smack, your eyes following the distinct wobble that follows.
"Mm- Yes- Thank you..." He reaches towards you to pull you into a warm hug, which you oblige with wandering hands that reach and squeeze his ass. You feel his cock lengthening and twitching against your leg in response. Finally, you breathe in his musky sweet scent and begin to kiss him from his jaw down the nape of his neck, to his collarbones, where you find a sweet spot and begin to lick and suck at it. He practically turns into mush and holds you tighter, fingers grazing your ass and passionately grabbing it. In an effort to keep him in line, you quickly pull away and grasp the hair by the nape of his neck and use it to pull him back onto the bed. He lets out a surprised moan.
You take this as an opportunity to once again mount yourself on top of him and resume kissing further down his chest - ensuring both sides are given equal and adequate attention. You finally make your way to his nipples, which you lick, suckle, and bite, inciting a wince out of his gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes. You can tell by the way he's looking at you with pure hunger and desire that he wants nothing less than to give you double the pleasure you are inciting in him - but this will have to wait! You continue kissing and licking and move further down near his belly button, where you leave a trail of love bites up to the start of the delicious trail of hair that leads to his aching, dripping cock. You graze the length of him buried under the dress with your closed lips and a hungry grin.
"Ye-es Y/N. Please," he groans, eyebrows furrowing and hips bucking at your touch. "Please- my queen- I live to serve you; I bow down to you, always." Your grin widens, seeing just how down bad he's become with just the idea of you.
"Awww- my sweet prince. You're coming undone for me. What do you need? Use your words?" You tease, hovering your hands above his erection with just enough closeness that he can practically feel you. He can barely control his wild hips rutting in the air at this point.
"I- I- M- must- please- touch me..." he barely gets out as he finds the slightest bit of friction and chases it, humping faster. You use this as an opportunity to grab a handful of pomegranate from the bowl on the table and force it into his mouth, effectively silencing him for the moment. Then, you pull all of him, dripping and engorged, out of the dress, and with a swiftness, you swirl the precum on his tip using your fingers. Your mouth finds his tip sooner than he can let out the whiniest sluttiest whimper in agreement, and you lick around the head and all the way down to the base. Letting your mouth once again get used to his delicious size. You carefully take him into your open jaws, letting the saliva drip down hungrily, covering him in slick, and effectively taking him to another plane.
Using your other hand, you grab at and massage his balls simultaneously as your head bobs up and down his shaft. His body is now tense, twitching slightly, as his breath quickens and he mutters soft 'thank-yous' in Ancient Egyptian. Finding a good opportunity for a break, you pull your mouth off him, letting the sticky string of his arousal follow you. You take a good look at him - his hair a divine mess of curls, his blushed cheeks flushed, his kohl-lined eyes hungrier than you thought possible, his juicy lips agape, and his chest heaving uncontrollably. He wants nothing more than to devour you until you are nothing but a whiny mess in a puddle of your own arousal. He hungers for a taste of your sweet nectar. It is taking everything in him to stay still - to obey.
"You did so well using your words, Ahk- but now, I need you to obey my every command. I don't want you holding any of your delicious noises inside; I want the whole museum to know what I'm doing to you - what I am capable of." You look directly into his eyes, holding his head and tilting it up so his eyes meet yours, nodding at him for confirmation. He smirks wildly again and nods excitedly, dick taut and ready.
You climb up his strong frame, higher and higher. He anticipates that you will sit on his lap once more and ride him to the Duat (Ancient Egyptian afterlife); however, you keep climbing higher until you are inches away from his face. With a quick breath, you peel off your undergarments and take a seat on his adoring and confused face - unafraid of messing up the makeup previously applied. He takes to this change rather quickly, knowing what is being asked of him with no prompting needed; holding your thighs in place eagerly. He laps at you hungrily, steadily, and with the exact pressure your body needs to release your arousal. His tongue weaves quickly between your folds with muscle memory, collecting your juices, circling your engorged bud agonizingly slow - letting the pleasure build deep inside your belly in waves. You let out a satisfied groan, and he grumbles in response- this scene is exactly what you've been imagining to yourself all those nights spent alone! "F-fuck y-eah! Like that- mmhmm," you practically shout, enamoured with the addictive feeling of his mouth on your sopping wet cunt.
You crave to have more and more, and begin grinding your hips vigorously against his mouth and nose, holding no remorse for his breathing capabilities, given your heightened state of arousal. He groans deeply in response, vibrating onto your core. You feel the waves hit you again, this time harder, and make you tingle all over. You feel it coming, and you let loose, pushing yourself relentlessly harder and harder into his wet, eager mouth. You moan with ecstasy as you cum, further covering him in your divine nectar, twitching and spasming uncontrollably, and never ceasing the tantric rocking of your hips.
"Yeesss!!" You mewl lustfully, eager to chase your next orgasm just as quickly as the first one left you. You grab handfuls of his hair and pull tight. "More. Now." You bark as you speed up the rhythm of your hips. Ahk moans and increases the speed of his tongue on your clit, swirling and teasing more intensely than before. You race against it, sweat beading on your brow, panting and moaning heavily. Then, it reaches you - strong and unexpected! The waves hit you harder than before, and you can barely keep your eyes open. Your hips buck under the pure pleasure of it all, and you hold tight onto the hair still twisted between your fists.
"Mmm- such a good boy- that was divine." You begin to laugh, overcome by ecstasy. As you begin to get off his face, you notice the makeup ruined by your juices, smearing in all the wrong places, and you can't help but be proud of your wondrous creation. "My, my- look what you did to your face! Can't have a taste of me without making a mess of yourself, can you? Tsk tsk." Ahk barely registers what you are saying as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you with glossy eyes.
You make your way to his hips and begin stroking him from tip to shaft, urging him to sit up and watch you. He starts groaning deeply and biting his lip, and you take that as an opportunity to apply lube to his cock and slide him in between your slick folds, mixing his precum with your sticky sweetness. "Y-yess m-my queen! I h-hunger for y-ou! Take mercy-" he cries, you don't even let him finish his plea before straddling him and placing his rock-hard, glistening penis inside of you.
Ahk lets out a whine as you slide all the way down on him, bottoming out, breathing into the mind-numbing stretch he gives you, and begin rocking your hips tantalizingly. Quickly placing one hand on his shoulder and the other gripping his curls tight, matching his darkened gaze on your body. "Do you like it when I do this to you, Ahk?" you ask with an ecstatic grin on your face.
"Y/N- I love it- so- so- much- always!" He pants, groaning as you take him further and further towards the edge. You kiss him on the shoulder and make your way to kiss and suck on his neck, leaving love bites. You let yourself come down harder, inviting him in deeper and feeling him brush against your cervix so deliciously. You can feel him twitching inside with each fall of your ass on him, and decide to speed it up, each rise and fall increasing in increments. "Gods- you are ab-solutely inticing my queen-" he moans, getting even closer to the edge.
"Don't finish until I do. Hold in your seed, Ahk. I mean it!" You scold breathlessly, riding him rhythmically.
"I am not cer-tain I can fulfill y-your request- my queen-" he whines, eyebrows furrowed and hips bucking into you shallowly from underneath. You hold his hips down and take his hand to your swollen clit, making him rub tight circles, which makes him twitch harder and moan. "Holy- F-f-fuuck" you whimper as you feel the waves tighten and coil inside of you once more, aching to come down and wash you away. You make him touch you even faster and rock your hips back and forth, taking him all in once more. Your breathing quickens and the dam is released - even stronger than the last time, you are left a breathless, spasming, mewling mess in his arms. Wave after wave hits you, and this time, your eyes are forced shut, and you lean your head on his shoulder to stay grounded.
Just as your orgasm is at its end, Ahk looks at you with the most pained puppy eyes, forehead veins bulging due to his straining. "Please- please- I want to-" he begins stumbling over his words like the pussydrunk man he is.
"As promised, my Pharaoh- let the rivers flow!" You giggle to yourself, still resting your head on him, this time with one of his strong arms holding you steady. As if your words were magic, he loses himself in his orgasm, hips bucking into you and shooting thick, hot, sticky ropes into you as he moans and twitches - eyes practically closed, cheeks perfectly rosy, and some remainder of the makeup still intact. You pull him close and rock your hips gently to ride out the waves together, and he joins in and wraps his other arm around your waist.
"I love you Ahk!" You sigh happily in his ear.
"I love you too, Y/N, to the Duat and back." He returns, grunting.
You look into each other's eyes, in awe of the scenes that took place moments before this, and latch onto each other's lips. He kisses you with feverish desire and love. You kiss him back with the same intensity and switch to kissing all over each other's faces gently. You get two on his nose, four on each cheek, one on his chin, three on his forehead, and two more chaste kisses on his lips.
"Thank you," he begins softly, "for introducing me to a whole new world of desire and passion. You are unlike anything I've ever experienced- truly!"
"And thank you," you begin, "for trusting me to run your world- even for just one night!" You smirk suggestively at him, and you both break into laughter together.
Warning: smut (this kinda turned into a slowburn smut, since it's a first time imagine with a long foreplay)
-> you and Ahkmenrah always liked each other. This night proofs that waiting for the right person pays out.
A/n: just for the better imagine, in ancient egyptian culture, men were cut
As the daughter of the supreme general, you grew up in pharaoh Merenkahre's palace, in the close circle of queen Shepseheret. When you were sixteen, you had noticed for the first time, that both of the prince's were interested in you. But while you couldn't make much of the seven year older Kamunrah, who had slept with every woman of the harem and loved nothing more but to send his trainings partners to the healers, you found yourself glancing at his six years younger brother Ahkmenrah every now and then. Ahkmenrah was nice and respectful, he rather spent his time studying and when he did train, his movements seemed more like a dancers.
So you were surprised, when, as you were sixteen, a servant asked you to go into the prince's chambers at nightfall. You had never heard of Ahkmenrah bedding any woman, which was unusual for a prince of a society where intimacy was seen as normal and talked about openly.
You stepped into the royal chambers, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. Ahkmenrah was standing on his balcony and turned around as he geard you.
"My prince", you greeted, bowing your head.
He smiled, "Y/n, I'm glad you came", you could have sworn that you heard something like relief in his voice and see him blush lightly in the orange light of the setting sun.
He stepped closer, hesitantly he reached up, stroking a strand of hair behind your ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the pad of his finger graced your skin.
"I want you to know that, no matter how much I want this, you can always say no", he whispers.
You smile, chest warming at his thoughtfulness. He could command you to do as he wishes, but he gives you a choice. One reason more for you to now nod, "I want this too, my prince"
"Ahkmenrah", he whispers with a reliefed smile, "For you, it's Ahkmenrah"
"Ahkmenrah", you repeat his name breathless.
"You don't know how long I waited for this", he whispers, voice raspy, "Since I laid my eyes upon you, I couldn't think of anyone else. I wasn't able to touch another woman, for it would have felt like betraying you"
You feel heat creeping into your cheeks and ears and lower your gaze, but he gently turns your chin up with his index finger.
As you stare into his beautiful eyes, a swirl of grey and blue, in the orange light even greenish, he leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you would like to. You tilt your head up a bit more in invitation and he connects his lips with yours. You close your eyes as you feel his plumb, soft lips move against yours, tasting sweet honey and spiced tea. As his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, you part them and your tongues begin to dance with each other. He wraps one arm around your waist, the other goes in your hair. You snake both arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers playing with his short locks, while you press your body flush against his. He's solid and strong, but there is a gentleness to him that makes you trust him with your body and heart. His hand in your hair tugs a bit on your strands, making you tilt your head, so he can deepen the kiss. You sigh in content, feeling him smile as a response.
Slowly he walks you back, the sound of your kissing filling the room. When the edge of his big bed hits your calves, you sit down, scooting back. He follows suit, without breaking the kiss, gently pushing you down into the pillows when you reach the middle of his bed. He crawls on top of you, leaning on his forarms beside your head. When he continues kissing you, tongues swirling around each other, his hips slowly grind into yours. Heat pools in your belly, you arch your back against him, feeling yourself getting wet. He isnât the only one who wanted this for a long time. And while his fingers lightly stroke over your throat, no more touch than from a fearher, your hands stroke over his back, feeling the tense muscle through his linen tunic. Ahkmenrah places a last kiss on your lips, then his lips wander over the corner of your mouth to your throat. He softly sucks at it, making you gasp, which earns you a smile from him. His nose brushes against the collar of your thin linen dress, pulling it with his teeth to the side to kiss your collarbone.
You feel the tension in your belly rising, you want him. You want Ahkmenrah. Tugging at his tunic, you tell him to take it off. He chuckles lightly against your collarbone, then sits up between your legs and takes off his tunic. To your recognition, he wears nothing underneath. Biting your bottom lip, you let your eyes travel over his lean body. He's not bulky, but his olive skin stretches over two nice pecks and biceps.
Ahkmenrah looks down, blushing, the first sign of insecurity you saw from him so far. You open your arms, inviting him back down and his insecurity seems to vanish, as he smirks and kisses you again. Now your hands travel over his bare back, feeling the shift of his muscle under your fingers.
Softly he tugs on your dress, "Let us be even"
You lift your arms and arch your back, helping him to undress you. He smirks again, as he notices that you also wear noticing under your dress. You both hoped for the same. Ahkmenrah kisses down from your collarbone to your sternum, then experimentally flicks his tongue over the nipple of your right breast. You sigh, making him more confident, as he begins sucking at it, while his other hand cups your left breast, which perfectly fits into his palm. He changes between your breasts, connecting your nipples through a string of saliva, before kissing lower, over your stomach where the heat pools, down to your core where you throb. With a last kiss on your vulva, he pull back a bit to look at your already wet temple. Licking his lips, he gently nudges his nose against your wet lips and pushes it up against your clit. The moan he earns from you is proof enough that he is doing the right thing. Softly he kisses your lips, then gently sucks on your clit. You arch your back, "Ahkmen", you moan. His tongue flicks through your slit, collecting your juice, tasting it with a content hum that vibrates through your core, sending shivers down your spine. He starts sucking and licking, your back arches as your moans echo from the stone walls. Just when it feels best, when you think you can't take the tension building in your stomach anymore, he pulls back and smiles down at you. You can't help but whine softly, which makes him chuckle and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. Ahkmenrah's soft skin under your fingers, you run your hands over his shoulders and back, then around his waist and down. As your fingers wrap around his cock, he gasps against your lips. Now it's on you to smirk and while you rub his length, smearing his precum down his shaft, as he drops his head in your neck, moaning and panting against your pulse point. Your right hand gets a bit lower, stroking his balls, making him suck in a sharp breath.
But the throbbing in your core gets harder and you let go of him, looking pleading into Ahkmenrah's eyes. He takes a deep breath, kissing you again, while his fingers stroke over your wet slit.
"So ready for me", he smirks, pushing a finger into you. As you arch your back, he curls it, then adds a second. Pumping them in and out a few times, curling them each time theyâre deepest, he pulls them out as he feels you dripping, getting a needy whine from you. While he keeps his eyes on yours, he licks his fingers, making you blush, then leans down to kiss you again. His hips grind gently, but needy against yours, his shaft gliding through your slit, rubbing your clit and coating in your juice. He positions himself and gently presses his tip inside you. Your breath catches, hands flying to his shoulders. He gasps as he sinks fully into your tight, wet heat, you moan into his ear, whimpering softly as it burns from the stretch. Ahkmenrah stays as he is and begins peppering your face in kisses, until it relaxes because the burn fades. Only then does he begin to gently rock his hips into yours. Your hands claw at his back, pressing into his skin, as your toes curl. Soft, panted moans escape you, while he groans into your neck. Then he fastens his pace a bit, pulling back more, hitting deeper and that one spot each time. You throw back your head and when he goes even faster, your moans echo through the palace. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him instinctively closer, "Ahkmenrah", you moan, fueling him even more. He presses your wrist over your head into the mattress, as he lets you take all of him, bottoming out, his pelvis rubbing against your clit as you feel his balls bounce against your ass.
You free your hands from his grip, running them through his hair, tucking at the short locks, while you moan into each others mouth. Your hands run over the smooth olive skin of his freckled back, feeling the traces of your nails from before, which will definitely be still there for the next days, until your hands rest on his firm ass, pressing him closer, even deeper.
"Y/n", he groans, lips brushing over your throat, beads of sweat visible on the pecks of his chest.
"Ah", you moan as an answer, your walls clamping down on him.
"Y/n, I can't any longer", he grunts, before burying his face in your neck. You feel the knot in your stomach explode just as you're about to answer, so you just cry out, feeling your walls tighten, then devour him, sucking him deeper in then it should be possible. For a moment you're scared that he'll never be able to pull out again, then you realize that you wouldn't mind being connected to him like that forever. Just as the biggest wave of pleasure has crashed over you, you hear him groan, which fades into a moan against your pulse point. Then he twitches inside you and pumps hot ropes of seed into you, while making the most beautiful noises you've ever heard from a human being. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, luckily he's not too heavy, so you just wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, still deeply connected with him, while you feel a mix of your juice and his seed trickle down your legs.
"Ahkmenrah", you whisper softly, as if to make sure that he really lays in your arms.
His head lifts a few centimeters from your chest to smile blissfully at you, then nuzzles back, while he softly whispers, "I love you and you were definitely worth waiting for"
You smile, combing his hair with your fingers while you whisper back, "I love you too, Ahkmenrah... always have"
And so you both fall asleep, cuddled together, his seed drying on your thighs as you still feel the nice, wet mess inside you, your prince in your arms, with Kamunrah definitely knowing that you belong to Ahkmenrah, after the whole palace heard you moaning his name, while the moon rose above you.
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My first time writing smut, I hope you like it đ€
This is my first time writing an angsty piece! But I felt like the fandom needed to know what really went down between them - so I hope y'all enjoy my take on Ahk's trauma, flashbacks, and how he died! BTW: I take requests!
Ahkmenrah often did not discuss the angsty details of his previous life. That was something he kept to himself, deep in the vaults of his mind. Often, patrons would notice him staring into space or seemingly lost in a memory, but little would be said about it. That is, until you become involved in his life.
In the early hours of dawn, his true terrors would come to face him once more as he starts to decay and experience his death once more. Centuries of reliving a death that was so unexplained, just knowing he was stabbed, many times, broke some bones, and died alone, only to be discovered later by his family and promptly mummified. Of course, he didn't tell you this; you came to piece it together yourself after noticing all the wounds that would accumulate on his body and the way his stare would blank right before he screamed and cried. Similar to night terrors, he seemed to get flashes of memories with great pain and significance. You so badly wanted to help him through it, but weren't sure how. This night, however, was different than others; he was stuck in a trance, staring intensely at a clay pot in a case in front of him, unaware of the world around him.
The night is still, and the moon glows incandescently, shining its proud full moon rays upon Ahkmenrah. It is one of those humid nights where the warmth of the day has not truly left. He stands on a balcony, overlooking the Nile and the settlements along it. Still wearing his newly bestowed Pschent (Crown) along with his new robes, he crosses his arms as he relives his long week.
He had recently taken his place as Pharaoh, much to the demise of his brother, Kahmunrah, who was older and felt it was his rightful place to have succeeded to the throne. They always had a complicated relationship, a rivalry beginning and ending with Kahmun, who made it his mission to show Ahk he was not, in fact, as special and important as mom and dad told him he was. In such a royal and influential family like theirs, he managed to make Ahk feel as though he didn't even deserve the light of the sun on his back.
To Ahkmenrah, nothing would ever change his brother. Not even the Gods could stop him when he went on one of his rampages or episodes. Alas, he still loved and cared for him. Given his brother's constant state of distress, his parents opted to train Ahk to become everything his brother had desired - the next Pharaoh, and to lead his dynasty with the support of his subjects and the Gods. Ahk was constantly dealing with the pressure of taking a place he didn't feel he belonged in. On top of his brother's antics, he felt like he was succumbing to the pressure, and it was only the beginning of it all. Ahk tried on many occasions to befriend his brother and show him they were not destined to be enemies; however, he was always pushed away and never entertained for very long. Still, he longed for a sense of camaraderie. A sense of normalcy in their very abnormal life.
To Kahmunrah, the day that Ahk finally admitted defeat would be the day that he would finally have it all - the riches, the respect, the love of their parents, and the throne. He grew up being told of all the fantastical things he would soon do, just to have it taken by an inferior, smug, know-it-all brat. Being thrown into a healing temple in an effort to cure his madness only made his resentment grow. Why was he sick? Why was everything being taken away from him? Why was he no longer important? Why was he hidden? His thoughts often raced in this manner, making it almost impossible to hear himself think. Over time, he let himself be taken by these thoughts and settled into a comfortable evil, no longer caring about the consequences and no longer willing to settle for less than what he felt he deserved. It was time to take back what was his, for once and for all.
Ahk takes a long, deep breath and focuses on the stars glowing in front of him and the entrancing glow of the moon. He yearned to hear the Gods speak back to him, to feel less alone, to feel less of a disappointment. Sure, he was doing what was needed of him, but he felt like such a fraud. There are soft footsteps behind him, and he focuses his senses on the faint change in energy that makes the air suddenly thick and his heart race. This doesn't feel like a normal night after all.
He braces himself for social contact and rolls his shoulders back, tilts his head back up, and takes another steadying breath. Quickly, he turns to face the darkness that encapsulates his chambers. It feels almost too quiet, and for a moment, it is welcome. A tall, shadowy figure approaches him, and the hairs on his neck stand up in anticipation.
"You, always the favorite," Kahmunrah's voice booms, in contrast to the Nile's calm ambiance. "You were given everything meant for me. What is it, brother, that makes you think you're better than me? That you insist on constantly overshadowing me, taking everything from me." He approaches without a moment to spare, causing Ahk to move back in confusion and fear towards the balcony in an effort to keep his distance. As Kamunrah closes the distance between them, under the light of the moon, it is revealed that he is holding a ceremonial dagger.
"Kahmunrah. H-How did you get here? Let's t-talk about this. This isn't- this isn't who you are. I don't think you want to hurt me-"
"You do not know who I am! Only I know. And tonight, Egypt will remember my name, not yours - you maggot!" His movements become erratic as he gets closer and closer, getting riled up by his own pent-up rage. There is an unsettling look in Kahmun's eyes, almost a hunger. He raises the dagger and runs straight into Ahk, who attempts to stop it by raising his hand, but is stabbed straight through his palm.
A look of betrayal glints in Ahk's eyes as he realizes what is being done to him. He tries to call for help, but is quickly silenced as blood begins to fill his lungs. Heaving for air, he gargles and chokes on the rising blood within him. Kahmunrah stabs him quickly and relentlessly in the abdomen, in the lungs - until Ahk's upper body is soaked in the dark, thick, pulsating liquid of life. Ahk's body grows weaker with each second, and he tries to reach for something, anything, to get his brother to stop. Alas, it is no use - his arm lifted in the air with nothing to grab. The strength to fight is almost completely diminished, and keeping his head up grows exhausting and difficult. With the force of a push, he is thrown off the balcony and lands harshly on the rough ground. The force makes his head throb like it's never done before, and the ringing in his ears replaces all other sound, save the roaring whoosh of his slowing heart. Everything is black.
He screams in pain, suddenly feeling his insides crumble. The suddenness of it all causes him to hold his chest and lean on the glass case of the clay pot artifact. The electric hum of the lights around him becomes disorienting; he does not know where he is. His breathing quickens, and he falls to his knees, crying uncontrollably. You rush over to him, in shock at the rate at which the scene unfolded.
"Ahk! Are you okay? Breathe- in and out- yeah, like that. I'm here, my love. Can you feel me holding you?" You frantically try to ground him back in reality, in your arms. His labored breaths slow as he tries to follow directions. He finally seems to notice you and faces you with the most broken look you've ever seen.
"I'm- I'm alive." He begins, seemingly in shock at that reality. "Though I am alive, it is merely temporary. I shall never escape this pain. I was just a pawn- that's all my life was worth- That's the legacy I am carrying-" His breathing grows ragged once more. It seems as though he is talking to himself. You gently run your fingers through his hair and take a deep breath, prompting him to do so as well.
"You are so much more than that. You're making your own legacy, a new one, whatever you want it to be. Right now. Every moment you spend with me. You are not your past, Ahk! He cannot hurt you anymore! Hear me when I say that. I am so, so sorry-" You smile passionately at him and give his forehead a chaste kiss. His arm reaches up to find your head, and he cups your face, and a small, sad smile forms on his face.
For a long moment, he says nothing - Finding comfort in the rhythmic beating of your heart and the museum ambiance. He finds his voice, though shaky and unsure.
"It pains me to say, I still hold love for him. I just want him to find peace. After everything he did- I can't see him as evil- he's just my brother. My wound. I carry it with me always."
His glossy eyes release a few more tears, and he finally has the strength to hold you back. You tighten your arms around him without hesitation, one hand resting carefully on the back of his head, cradling it.
"You don't have to carry this alone anymore," you whisper before kissing his head once more.
Ahkmenrah trembles softly at the weight of your words; he feels weak and unlike himself, yet he does not pull away. Instead, he leans closer into you, allowing your warmth to anchor him in the present moment.
Surrounding you, the museum continues on, as always, with the muffled echo of footsteps in the distance, the hum of electricity above you, and the comforting smell of old artifacts.
Slowly, the guarded pharaoh feels safe enough to breathe again - with you by his side.
He loves to talk with you and hear you speak, but is oblivious to you liking him because his norms of showing that are different than yours
He feels the need to uphold a certain royal persona and be formal and proper, but feels safe enough to let loose with you
He doesn't remember the details of his death but knows it is gruesome and related to Kahmunrah, his brother
He has flashbacks of his old life seemingly randomly, and that makes him homesick for a land that no longer exists
When he really trusts you, he'll let you see him without his royal regalia and headdress and touch his soft, dark curls
He gives Gomez from the Addams family as a lover, like bro is DEVOTED and OBSESSED - he is very romantic and gentle with you, always touching you or kissing you in some way
He loves to play with your hair and put his head on top of yours, hold you from behind, and hold your hands when around others
He is protective of you, but not in a controlling way; he just never wants anyone to hurt your feelings or disrespect you, and sees it as his duty to prevent that
He's very intelligent and picks up on things quickly - dude is lowkey a savant or something he collects languages and facts like infinity stones and will find a way to interact with all his subjects no matter the language or culture or time barrier
He's very funny and sarcastic, but also has a dirty humor side he doesn't let out very much - the first time it happens, it catches you by surprise
He is not argumentative at all; in fact, he hates fighting and will do whatever is needed to prevent one
His type is someone who is his equal, who matches his sass, his diplomacy, and understands him as more than just a pharaoh (I think he's an equal opportunity man, and while bodies are enticing, the person attached to the body is more important)
He's surprisingly strong and has a lot of endurance for running, lifting, and other things
I keep going back and forth on this, but I think he's either a virgin with lots of book knowledge or he's been around for some time because he gives off big munch energy like it's his favorite thing
This is part two of the first fic I wrote! I am hoping to continue this story further with time and let them be all cute and give Ahk some love because he deserves it! As always lmk what you guys think!
After she had left that night, with a cheshire cat grin, Ahk was noticeably spaced out. Enough so that he had forgotten to ask for her name. This realization hit him like a punch to the gut when he began his wind-down ritual - holding his tablet in his hand up towards the ceiling and thanking the gods that he had lived another night. It dawned on him that he did not know much about this woman, not even if she would ever return as he hoped she would.
As Larry the nightguard began his final rounds, Ahk pushed these thoughts out of his head in favor of his pharoh-ly duties. Leaving his exhibit, he headed straight to Larry, in their usual spot near the information desk. He went through the checklist of exhibits with Larry, ensuring all were accounted for, and in the right spot, and with this piece of mind, he returned to his chambers (AKA his sarcophagus) and began to pull the wrappings tightly around his body. As time passed, the roll of cloth began to disappear onto his form, and his body became more achy and stiff. At last, he lay down in his sarcophagus and pulled the lid tightly shut - muttering a prayer in ancient Egyptian to guide his soul on its journey until the next night.
Each night started off the same - the eagerness to continue the story, the anticipation of her arrival, the mundane tasks of looking the part and saying the right thing in front of the museum patrons. The waiting was agonizing - knowing that some people never return, some promises are broken, some stories are left unwritten. Much like his own story, it was disappointing how it was cut so short and abruptly.
A week passes. The museum patrons come and go as if nothing has changed. Teddy and Larry roam the halls keeping people in check, the Huns patrol the perimeter and perform for guests, and the miniatures keep all eyes on them. People pass by him without stopping; in fact, some barely even glance at him. They just keep moving. Just enough for Ahkmenrah to once again be passed on. He remains tall, calm, and steady - he is not one to compete for attention, especially not as a king. It would be wrong to say it didn't hurt his feelings, though. He may not be fragile, but it is registered that he is not as exciting as some of the others on the floor. He defaults to formality and royal poise - If I am not being seen, I will not insist upon it. He steps aside and introduces his museum companions to the patrons with the fanfare they deserve. He does not speak when guests don't care to listen.
A few more days passed, and he once again grew accustomed to his place by the tablet, watching others interact. That was, until he spotted an individual in the crowd, parting people like the Red Sea, walking quickly, with purpose, on a mission. There is a slight, but unmistakable shift in his expression - a bright, small smile appears on his face, and he stands even taller. Quickly, he states, "...You returned. You may request an audience - though, I suspect you will not wait to be granted one." A light chuckle emerges from his lips.
This startles her, as she had her back to him, not yet aware of his location. "Yeah - sorry, I didn't want to disappear. I work weird hours." She rubs her hands together, nervously.
He walks a bit closer, under the guise of hearing her better, and lowers his head to match her line of vision better. He nods. "That would help explain your absence."
She smiles, eyes tired but glistening. She tucks a curl behind her ear, "I'm a nurse," she adds, offering context. "I do long shifts. Early mornings, sometimes even at night - it can be a lot." She gets a bit closer to him, closing the large gap between them.
He nods and looks her up and down, "You tend to the injured. That is a career of high honor and importance."
Her smile becomes bigger, "Well- thank you, I care for those who are sick, recovering from various illnesses and situations. I like it, but it can be difficult to transition back into this world when I'm done."
He considers her words carefully. "That must require patience and awareness. One must be resilient to overcome."
She stares into space for a moment. "Yeah. Most people just say that it 'sounds stressful' or that they would never be able to do it-"
He meets her gaze, "It does sound stressful- but you do not speak of it as a burden."
She smiles a bit wider. "Yeah, I guess I just don't see it that way. Everyone gets sick one way or another. If you live long enough, we will all become disabled. No one is truly immune in a way. I wouldn't want to make others feel like a burden for just needing something- especially if it's something I can give them."
There is a bit of silence, and she takes a deep breath and looks away. Her gold jewlery bobbing up and down with the movement of her chest. She opens her mouth, trying to speak, but doesn't have the right words. Her eyebrows furrow, and she tucks her hair behind her other ear. "I was hoping you'd still be here-" she blurts. She winces at her phrasing, "I mean- of course, you would be, but-" she gestures vaguely at him, shrugging her shoulders, "you know what I mean."
There is a hint of amusement in his expression. For once, the lack of a crowd around him is a safety blanket. He doesn't feel trapped in his regal persona. "I believe I do. I found myself...anticipating your presence." He turns slightly, facing towards his side of the museum, and motions for her to follow with the slight tilt of his head.
"Oh, really? I understand that feeling." She crosses her arms and picks up the pace of her short strides. Ahk begins to speed up a bit from a slow leading pace, to a more casual, conversational one. She continues to stare at the ground, exchanging short but intense glances back at him, "I have been meaning to ask, what was it actually like, being you? ...As a pharoh, I mean."
He doesn't answer immediately. Anticipating her willingness to dig deep, he chooses to explain such a distant memory in words she will absorb. "It was ...structured," he says, now mimicking her body language and also looking down as he speaks. "A life full of expectations and responsibilties. Very little was left to chance. My life was planned out for me by the moment I was out of my mother's womb." He sighs, lost in feelings he often buried deep about his childhood.
She nods, giving him space to add more. Then adds, "That sounds...exhausting. I guess I never thought about how restricting being in that kind of position could be for someone, especially growing up."
He gestured vaguely, "It could be. Being equated with godliness means you're never left out of sight." His eyes express conflicted feelings, a tinge of sad, a bit of something not so readily accessible. He finishes quieter, "But it was also what I was raised to become." He hesitates and stops walking for a moment, glancing back at an artifact written on papyrus. He clears his throat, "I was not expected to rule," he says at last. The tone shifts, becoming more serious. His persona melts away, just for a moment.
She looks at him with her full attention, intrigued and trying to piece it all together. "You weren't? But then how-" she begins, unsure how to end the sentence.
"My brother was the one meant for the throne." The silence between them grows thick with uncertainty. This is not something he shares often.
Her expression tightens as she connects the dots, "But- you were chosen instead?" Her arm instinctively reaches out to touch his, attempting to provide some comfort. He glances back up at her when they touch.
He nods, "It was my parents' decision." Voice remaining measured and calm, it is clear there is something just underneath the surface - something he is not ready to speak on.
They are now facing each other fully, amidst the various Egyptian artifacts in the Egyptian wing. Her brows remain furrowed, "And your brother, he didn't take that well, I'm guessing?"
"No." His gaze shifts slightly, entranced in something that fills his eyes with tears. "He did not."
She holds his arm tighter, "That's a lot." She doesn't need to know the details to understand the weight of what is being said.
He looks back at her, his pained expression no longer hiding. "It was not...how I expected my life to unfold." He clears his throat, now aware of the expression he is holding, "But it was the life I was given." He raises his head once more, fixing his posture and regaining his royal composure.
She studies him carefully, the same way she always seems to do. "But that wasn't fair. You were just doing what you were told." The pain in her eyes becomes clearer.
This statement makes him pause - he is taken aback by how matter-of-factly she says it. "...Fairness," he repeats quietly, as if testing the word. "In my time, that was not always the measure by which things were decided."
She nods. "Yeah. I figured." Her eyebrows wrinkle together as she attempts to find the right words. "But that doesn't make it less true."
Time slows as he considers her words. Something seems to shift in him, just slightly. He continues walking as they did before. "You speak plainly," he says.
She lets out a small, awkward laugh, looking away and taking a breath. "Yeah. I've been told that." She pauses, "Too much, sometimes. It's like people wish I would stop saying exactly what I mean."
Though his eyes remain somber, a twinge of a smirk appears on his soft lips. "No. It is...refreshing. I can probably count the number of times people have talked with me without having an ulterior motive. It's...nice to just talk."
This catches her off guard - she was expecting him to agree with her. "Oh-" She looks down and bites her lip, shifting her stance in anticipation, "Well, I'm also into you, so that probably helps." Her eyes penetrate his gaze, searching for confirmation that he feels the same.
"Into me?" He tilts his head, kohl-lined eyes widen, processing.
She nods, realizing she may need to translate. He studies her expression, his gaze serious and inquisitive.
"I do not believe I fully understand your meaning," he says.
She lets out a breath, flustered and amused with him, "Okay, yeah- that's fair." She gestures, trying to find the right words. "It means that I anticipate your presence. I like you, but- not just as a person, more than that. I find myself thinking about you all the time."
He listens closely. His heart stuck on every word. "You mean," he begins slowly, "that your interest is not limited to companionship or conversation?" He takes her hand in both of his. She nods quickly. He considers it carefully, "In my time, such intentions were rarely expressed so plainly." He smirks and continues, "They were implied. Arranged. Or decided by others. Not offered...in this way." His gaze returns to her eyes, this time letting himself fully smile.
She shifts slightly, nervous to hear what comes next, "Well- I'm- offering it." This seems to land more clearly.
He caresses her hand, looking at her with full attention now, "...Then I must respond with equal clarity." Her stomach flips, and she swallows nervously, now aware of the gentle but strong way his warm, soft hands hold hers. "I seek your presence. It is significant. And I do not consider you as I do others. I am drawn to you, your mystery, your companionship, your grace." He kisses her chastely on the back of her hand. "Was I sufficiently direct?"
She smiles wider, "Yeah, that works."
They share a tender moment, holding each other's hands and gazing into each other's eyes, unable to control their smiles. This moment is short-lived, as a group of patrons comes their way. At first, Ahk doesn't notice them; he is too focused on the jewel in front of him. However, as they approach, he feels called to his duties and once again straightens his posture, lifts his chin, and steadies his presence in anticipation. However, the group passed by without stopping, barely glancing over at him, seemingly taking a shortcut of sorts. His jaw tightens, and he breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. He withdraws into the moment.
She notices the way he pulls away and seems less present. After the group walks away, she doesn't hesitate and looks at him, "That bothers you."
Ahkmenrah doesn't answer right away. "It is expected."
She shakes her head slightly, "That is not what I said."
He pauses, more honest with himself this time, "It is... observed and noted."
She steps closer to him, almost enough to envelop him in a hug. "They don't get it, they don't understand."
"Get what?"
"You," she says simply. It doesn't sound like reassurance; she states it like a fact. "They go for what's loud. New. Familiar. Or easy to understand. You are none of those things." She shrugs.
He considers that for a moment and states, "That's not a disadvantage."
"No," she agrees. "It just means people have to try to understand you." She pokes him in the middle of his chest. "I did." This shifts something in him, something personal.
"You chose to," he says.
"Yeah. And I'll keep choosing to. There are thousands of years of lore I need to catch up on," she jokes.
"All you need to do is ask. I am full of answers, dear." He delivers with a hint of sass. He studies her for a moment longer than usual, with a hint of thoughtfulness in his expression. "There is something I have neglected to ask," he says.
"Yeah?"
"Your name." He states with complete sincerity.
She laughs, soft and surprised. "Right. That took you a while."
He isn't embarrassed and remains serious. "...It did." He pauses, "I have been speaking with you as though I already knew it."
"Yeah, you have," she smiles.
He steps closer, not imposing her space, but in anticipation. "Will you tell me?" There's something special about the way he asks it. With a certain careful formality.
"My name is Setareh, which means star in Persian."
"Seh-taar-reh. Setareh. I will remember it," he says deliberately.
She raises a brow, smiling, "You better."
He leans on a pillar nearby, "I assure you, I do not forget what is important."
"Good. Because I plan on sticking around, Ahk." She smiles teasingly while he meets her gaze steadily.
love loved the ahkmenrah story, the part where the read was described in a lot of detail had taken me out for a second, but otherwise it was really interesting and I hope you'll make more!!
Aww! Thank you! I am making more :) itâs going to be longer and continuing that story. I just have finals coming up and itâs a bit chaotic in my schedule but Iâm going to be writing more this weekend! Iâm thinking of doing one shots and imagines too where I wouldnât have an OC put into it so be on the lookout for that!
I feel like heâs not really someone that is attracted to someoneâs physical appearance but more of your personality, I just thought it would be interesting if he met someone from that region in our time period!
Iâm so glad you enjoyed it! I feel like weâre lacking in ahk content and I felt like I had to be one of the ppl to step up đ
Okie, hello everyone! I've been wanting to write some stuff of my own for a while now, but was too scared, but honestly, I think I'll be a fun addition to the other Ahk writers and Rami Malek appreciators! LMK what you guys think and if you want more of this kind of thing - I have a lot of ideas, but not all of them are fully fleshed out. I would be down for some imagines or what would he do if ... scenarios as well as full-on stories or fics! I am probably going to be using my OC unless otherwise asked or stated! Anyways enjoy! :)
This is set before the second movie, where the museum does regular night hours to interact with guests.
Ahkmenrah stands near his tablet, watching the room full of patrons with a calm, thoughtful expression. Dexter on the other side of him, admiring the soft hues that glow from the tablet.
As the next crowd approaches, he begins his rehearsed speech, "My parents gave me this tablet some 3,000 years ago, entrusting me with one of my people's most prized possessions." Ahk spoke as he gestured to the heavy slab of gold now in his arms. The crowd seems engaged, some people coming closer for a better look, while others try to find an excuse to keep moving. A man nearby mutters, "It's just a slab of gold, what's so special about that?" Others follow in his footsteps and head to another part of the museum.
Ahkemenrah takes a deep breath and composes himself, though he would give anything to speak to a different crowd. He learned that getting excited about his exhibit doesn't bode well, since others don't seem to share that energy with him. It doesn't make sense - what's cooler than a living Pharaoh? He makes small talk with the people who remain, giving them a closer look at his prized tablet when warranted.
A woman is now visible as the crowd has begun to thin; long, thick, dark, curly hair drapes her olive-toned shoulders effortlessly, with a hooked nose, septum piercing, nostril piercing, and glasses, she draws a mystical energy to herself. She is curvaceous and round, but not ashamed of it, wearing a flowy, floral-patterned sundress and some sandals. No taller than 5'0", she exudes a powerful energy, her powerful gaze behind her thick dark lashes and fluffy eyebrows puts him in a trance.
Her eyes take in all the details around them - the intricate carvings, the details most people tend to rush past, it is as if she wants to soak everything in.
Ahk tilts his head, slightly curious. She is a new face and seems to be interested in what he has to say. "You see more than most, " he states gently, his kind eyes poking through his royal persona.
She pauses and blushes, almost as if she were surprised he noticed her. She avoids eye contact and clears her throat, "I try to understand things before I speak on them."
That answer makes him smile. He puts the tablet back next to Dexter and steps a bit closer to her - careful to not inhabit her personal space; "That is ... rare, I must say." His arms were politely held in his lap.
She studies him the same way she studies everything else - carefully and thoughtfully. There's a brief silence between them, then she says softly, " ۧÙۧ ŰšŰŰš ۧÙŰȘ۱ÛŰź ۧÙÙ Ű”Ű±Û ŰŹŰŻŰ§ (I really love Egyptian history)."
A small pause. "But not the way you lived it. I understand you didn't have very long a rule... unfortunately." Her gaze doesn't waver, her curiosity genuinely piqued.
He doesn't answer right away, not because he is uncomfortable, but because he is processing more than just her words. There is a flicker of curiosity in his expression, his eyes light up.
"You just spoke in the tongue of Egypt," he says slowly. "... Though, it is not one I knew."
She pauses, a grin lighting up her face, "You understood that?" She avoids his gaze as she speaks, "I kinda did it on a whim hoping you would."
"Not fully," he admits. "But enough."
He studies her now, the same way she had been studying him, his hand lightly resting at his jaw.
"It has changed," he continues. "The rhythm is different. The sounds have softened in places, altered in others. . . but it is still familiar." He softly tilts his head with that realization.
She smiles slightly at that. "Yeah. It's modern Egyptian Arabic. I learned it in school since I love both the ancient and modern culture so much."
"I too, would like to learn it," he says, almost immediately. Then, his focus returns to what she said earlier.
"You speak of my history as something you have studied," he says with a calm voice. "But, also as something you recognize was ... incomplete."
She nods slightly. "Yeah. A lot of what I learned was about power, legacy, monuments, innovations... not people." She waits a beat, "Not what it actually felt like."
His expression softens just a little. "History often forgets the experience of those who lived it," he says quietly, his gaze lowered like he's stuck in thought. He pauses, "It remembers what remains. Not what was felt."
She looks at him more closely now. "That's what I think about," she admits. "Like... you were real. Not just a name or a story. You had a life, people, expectations." She hesitates then adds, "And then, it just ...stopped. Not much information on why it stopped so suddenly." Her brows furrow and she seems lost in thought.
He doesn't recoil from the statement. Instead, he nods, solemnly, "Yes, it was brief. But it was not without meaning."
She studies him again and pauses. "I did not mean to make it sound like it didn't matter."
"You did not," he replies calmly. "You acknowledged that it was limited, but that is not the same as saying it lacked value."
She relaxes slightly, unaware that she was tense in the first place. "Okay, good." A faint smile creeps up on her lips. "Because I think it mattered," she says as she looks back up at him, meeting his gaze.
He looks at her, a small grin forming on his face. He is not just noticing her; he is seeing her. The way she carries herself, the anxious but calm certainty, the way she isn't trying to impress him, but instead speaks as equals.
"You are very direct," he says, not as criticism but with admiration.
"I don't see a point in being confusing if you can simply say what you mean," she replies simply, looking in his general direction.
There is a moment of silence between them. The museum seems to be almost completely void of patrons. It is as if the world has stepped back and only left the two of them in it.
They both smile at the same time, and just as quicky, they both look away.
She fidgets with her hands and takes a deep breath, stepping slightly closer to him.
Lowering her gaze, she begins, "I really enjoyed our talk tonight. You have such beautiful eyes and a mind I'd like to pick at some more-" She stops herself, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. "It's not often people will indulge me, so thank you," a small, quiet giggle escapes her as she looks back up at him.
Ahkmenrah watches her endearingly the entire time. There's something warm in his expression now - less guarded, more present. "... Well," he begins, a hint of sarcasm threading through his voice, "It's not like I'm going anywhere."
She lets out a small laugh, "Yeah... I guess you're kind of stuck here."
He lifts his chin slightly, the tiny bit of his royal composure returning, but more softened. "If you wish to continue such conversations," he says, voice smooth and even, "you may simply request an audience."
He pauses, leaning closer to her ear, "Or - grant me the honor of yours."
(This movie was my childhood. Brings back so many good memories âŠand crushes.)
- Youâd worked at quite a few museums in your day but none of them were quite like the Museum of Natural History; a fact youâd be made aware of very suddenly and without warning.
- You were somewhat new to the building, hired to do work on the exhibits since you were skilled in restoration and design. You werenât a night worker, at least you werenât supposed to be, but youâd accidentally dropped something as you were leaving your office and were forced to stay late to clean it up.
- After a few moments of sweeping, youâd heard a commotion upstairs and as you went to leave the museum; and investigate, youâd walked straight into the beautiful chaos of a night at the museum.
- Letâs just say that Larry had a lot to explain, all of which you took surprisingly well; though you didnât have much of a choice now did you?
- Ahkmenrah spotted you from across the museum and watched as you made your way around the new magical world, staring at every person and thing in awe. He spied on you throughout the night and found that when heâd finally thought it appropriate to approach you, the sun was already beginning to rise.
- So the next day, he asks Larry about you, pretending as though heâs asking for no reason at all. Larry knowingly offers to introduce the two of you and the mummy drops the act, eagerly accepting.
âIâd like that very much, yes.â
- Larry approaches you with the sparkling pharaoh and is soon called away by someone else, leaving the two of you alone to speak. Ahkmenrah motions over to a bench nearby, commenting that it âmust be a lot to get used toâ as you both take a seat. You laugh in agreement and before you know it, the two of you are engaged in a conversation.
- Ahkmenrahâs sweet, heâs charming, heâs handsome, and heâs quite enamored with you; though you donât know that just yet.
- Soon enough, itâs time for the sun to rise and he takes notice, begrudgingly standing and admitting that he âmust say goodbyeâ. You respond with a somewhat disappointed goodbye yourself, watching as he begins to walk away before he turns and says âI should like to see you tomorrow âŠto continue our conversationâ to which you happily agree.
- The two of you become close fairly quickly. Anytime he spots you in a room, he makes a beeline towards you; both because he really likes you and because heâs somewhat awkward himself.
- He always likes being there for you, considering youâre new and not used to all that history coming to life stuff. He takes pride in being your guide and sort of likes the feeling of you depending on him a bit.
- Your âfriendshipâ takes an obvious romantic turn, particularly; and outwardly, on his side; I say âfriendshipâ because it was probably somewhat obvious from that he liked you more than that even from the beginning.
- He compliments you, oftentimes earnestly and quietly calling you beautiful, uses any excuse to touch you and your clothes, etc. He awes you with talks of Egypt and sweeps you off your feet quite easily. Itâs really only a matter of time before the two of you get together.
- That âtimeâ comes one day as youâre both sitting all alone. The room is dark and warmly lit and youâre sitting so close that his knees are touching yours. His hands hold yours as he speaks quietly to you and your face is leaned in close so that you can hear him.
- And then it just happens, your faces close in and you kiss, his grasp tightening around your hands.
- Youâre interrupted by one of the others, most likely Larry who quickly apologizes and mentions something about the sun coming up before leaving the two of you be. Ahkmenrah turns back to you, saying something along the lines of âso we must once again say goodbyeâ with a small smile.
âIt would appear so.â You respond, though youâre hesitant to move from your place. But alas, the sun has to rise and you have to go home.
âTomorrow then,â He smiles at you, giving your hand one last squeeze. ââŠMy queen.â
- You leave that morning, eager for the daylight to go and for you to be reunited with your newfound lover once more.
- Ahkmenrahs from ancient Egypt so Iâm sure he isnât particularly accustomed to ânormalâ Pda. That being said, he is somewhat dorky and practically has an entire hall to himself so he either just gives you innocent pda or the two of you go to his exhibit; and not have to worry about anyone seeing you.
- Heâs been locked up in a sarcophagus for about fifty years; or more, so heâs arguably a bit touch starved. Heâs always trying to touch you in some way and absolutely loves it whenever you touch him.
- He likes holding both your hands in his, occasionally bringing one of them to his lips. He just likes touching your hands in general if weâre being honest.
- Gentle caresses. Heâs in love, leave him alone.
- Forehead and cheek kisses. He likes prolonging the amount of time his lips spend on your skin; a normal prolonged amount of time of course.
-Â Long, soft kisses.
- Loving makeout sessions. His hands roam your back and pull you in as close as they can whenever you have one.
- He likes laying between your legs and/or resting his head in your lap.
- Cuddling with your arms wrapped around each other and your head resting against his shoulder. He likes laying and talking with you, playing with the fingers that lay on his chest.
- Having his robes draped over and around you.
- He likes having you with him at all times, both because heâs protective of you and because he canât bear to be away from you for more than a few hours.
- Youâll usually hang back and cling to his arm whenever youâre standing together. He likes feeling your presence at his side and the light grip you have on him.
- A bit clingy. He only gets to see you at night and has been alone for quite some time, of course heâs gonna want to be around you as much as possible.
- He always gets somewhat flustered when you give him gifts; particularly sweet things like flowers. You would have sworn youâd given him your underwear with the way he smiles and blushes in response.
-Â Ahkmenrah was the favorite son so he was a bit spoiled as a child. That being said, heâs surprisingly humble and sweet for a pharaoh that was given the best of everything.
- Heâs probably teared up a little because of you at some point, whether it be your actions or just the fact that youâre there with him. He can get a bit emotional at times.
- Dancing together. We all saw how beautifully that man can move.
- Sneaking him out every once in a while. He really likes your apartment; even if youâre sort of embarrassed because heâs a literal pharaoh and lived in a temple when he was alive.
- Movie dates. Theyâre the easiest thing to do with him and heâs missed out on pretty much all of them so heâs got a lot of catching up to do.
- Listening to music together.
- Considering his time at Cambridge and just the way he is, he may or may not wax poetic about or at you on occasion. He gets a little embarrassed when he realizes that heâs doing it but itâs the sweetest thing youâve ever heard/seen.
- Compliments and lots of them; usually paired with a term of endearment.
- He uses a lot of pet names on you, usually somewhat old fashioned ones. My dear, my sun, my queen, etc.
- Heâs the cutest when posing for photos. He tries to look all regal in the beginning but it quickly dissolves into the adorable dorkiness that you know so well.
- The boy is lovestruck. He could sit and watch you do nothing with this look of unwavering love on his face for hours. Need to do some work? Thats totally fine. Heâll just sit there and love you.
- Please let him braid your hair. Thereâs just something thatâs so relaxing and sweet about it to him.
- He has a hard time saying no to you. Youâre his queen after all, you should have everything you could ever dream of; and heâs just too sweet to deny nearly anyone.
- Polite and respectful, Ahkmenrah is a gentleman with incredibly good manners. Youâll never be disappointed in his behavior.
- Helping Larry and him take care of the museum and tablet.
- Teaching him about all heâs missed.
- Always having a translator. He certainly comes in handy when youâre traveling around the museum and run into some âhostileâ exhibits.
- Getting quietly and excitedly told a bunch of stories. Heâs always so adorably eager to tell you about his life; whether it be about Ancient Egypt or more present times.
- He wants to introduce you to his parents so badly; though heâs somewhat embarrassed by them. Maybe youâll transfer to the London museum for a bit?
- Getting bragged about. He always makes you sound cooler than you really are, though in your case, thatâs just how he sees you.
- Stopping him from making morbid comments; oftentimes at the wrong time, or just giving him a look. Heâs got a sort of different view on whatâs exactly an acceptable thing to say.
âToo dark?â
- Sharing looks and making comments to each other.
- Heâs always so gentle and caring with you; especially when youâre hurt or upset. He prides himself on being by your side and taking care of you.
- Heâs a fairly patient person; especially with you. I mean, heâs had to wait a lot more than a few years to be let out of his sarcophagus so one can assume that heâd be good at that sort of thing.
- Heâs not a terribly jealous person. Arguably, if you choose to be in a difficult relationship with a mummy, then you obviously want that relationship, right? Heâs loyal and he expects you to be as well; thatâs how it was in his times.
- That being said: if someone shows interest in you then heâll get a bit jealous; though heâll save his real jealousy for when he gets to see how you respond to them and how they respond to him making it known that youâre together.
- The museum can certainly get a bit dangerous at times; and he can only be there for you when youâre there, so of course heâll be protective of and worry about you. He looks out for you and tells you to be careful every time youâre saying goodbye.
- The two of you hardly ever fight or argue, youâre just compatible with each other; and you rarely have the time to do so anyway. Plus, your pharaoh doesnât have a mean bone in his body and lives to please you, so why would he try to fight with you?
- If heâs somehow done something; which is highly unlikely, heâll apologize the minute that he realizes heâs upset you or thinks that he has. Heâll give you space if you want or need it and welcomes you back with open arms when youâre ready.
- If youâve upset him then heâll do his best to give you the silent treatment and act professional with you; not quite cold but not loving like he usually is. Heâll do so until you apologize and he cracks, shyly accepting your apology and reverting back to his sweet self.
- Lots of I love yous. Youâre his queen, what do you expect?
- Your relationship is certainly going to be a bit challenging, but the happiness and love you feel with each other is worth it.
Description: The young Prince invites you on a boat ride, and your father, jumping at a chance to move through the ranks, quickly accepts for you. You, on the other hand, dread the idea of having to spend any time alone with the talkative Prince.
Notes: Wanted this to be smaller but as per usual ancient Egypt whisks me away into pleasure. it's getting colder here in Egypt so that reflects a little in the story... anyway i hope you enjoy (:
WC: 3.7k
+
Even though diplomatic meetings in orders of governance always either bored or depressed you, you would do your best each time to admire the architecture of the fancier meeting halls and preceding rooms, thinking of each limestone brick hauled from Tura and the men who laboured. These thoughts, though repetitive, were some respite from the droning voices of your father and his fellow overseers in conversation with the Vizier.Â
Why your father brought you along on these tedious meetings you didn't know exactly; but you surmised it had something to do with the Pharaoh's young son, who at times shadowed the Vizier. Knowing your father, he likely wanted to set the two of you upââhis way of moving up the ladder of social standing. Not that he needed to; your family was perfectly comfortable. But your father was a bit of an over-achiever.
You crossed your arms. Today's meeting was planned to take place in front of a construction site, and accordingly you spent some time watching the sweat-covered backs of farmers-turned-builders hauling and cutting stone. To the left, your father and the other overseers bent themselves over some newly-revised plans for the temple outside the Pharaoh's tomb. Further, on the other side of the table, the young prince Ahkmen stood with his hands behind his back, stealing glances at you between watching the workers.
You sighed curtly, and kept your gaze fixated on the carving men as your attention strayed. Whether you met the Prince's eye or not, he would look at you, only the slightest shame whenever you would return his stare. For a moment you debated what was more uncomfortable; returning the gaze or pretending like you didn't notice his eyes.
The latter was remarkably more difficult. You squeezed your hands behind your back, pinching your fingers, and wondered when you could finally leave and retreat to the comfort of your cooled home.
Eventuallyââsome time before middayââthe overseers either approved or dismissed the new plans. Whichever it was didn't concern you greatly; all that mattered was that it was finished. Your father bid good-bye to his associates and placed his arm around your shoulders, guiding you down from the shaded platform. You sniffled, and with feet weary from standing, followed his lead.
A hand tugged your arm from behind. You nearly stumbled and tripped backwards on the steps, but you quickly regained balance with your father's help. Whirling around with indignation and a crass proclamation on your tongue, you found yourself facing the sheepish, wide-eyed face of the Prince.
Your words died quickly, and your mouth faltered shut.
"I'm... uh, sorry," he said, a breathy, awkward chuckle escaping him. "I was just wondering if..." his eyes darted to your father, then back to you, "... if your father would allow you to accompany me on a boat ride."
Beside you, your father beamed.
"It is a pleasure and an honour to be invited by you, my Prince," your father said with a bow of his head. "Ra'inet would be happy to join you."
You pursed your lips into a tight smile. You were not happy to join the Prince. Through his facade of awkwardness he was incredibly self-centered and egoistic, traits both understandable and reprehensible in your mind. The two of you rarely spoke to one another, but even in those scant conversations those traits pulled through. Some part of you feared imagining what would happen if you were left alone with the Prince for an extended period of time.Â
But in front of you, the Prince smiled and his tension eased. Your father patted your shoulder and was quickly gone, caught up in another conversation with an overseer, and leaving you alone with the Prince.
A quiet blush filled up your cheeks as the Prince continued smiling at you, and offered his arm for you to take. Hesitantly, you hooked your arm around his, and with that he led you down the stone steps and towards the distant riverbank.
In the season of Peret, the air grew cooler, and the waters of the Nile were less inviting with their cold waves and murky depths. But the sun shone all the same, glistening rays painting the world a shade of gold, and reflecting off the rustling palm fronds like gems falling from one bowl into another. Many workers migrated from their jobs at the construction site to tend to their fields, resuming their work as farmers as they did with every season.Â
Ahkmen led you down the dirt paths winding through farmland and low houses, landmarked by local shrines drowning in lotus flowers and garlands of fresh camellias. You wondered, rather absently, where Ahkmen was leading youââthe royal docks were much further down the river. Even to a blind man, the braying of donkeys and the rough sounds of plows digging into the black soil would give away the farming nature of the area. But it was no place of yours to question, and so you quietly allowed Ahkmen to lead you in a tempered walk, his smile brightly offered to anyone who happened to catch his eye.
He sighed, a deep, satisfied sigh that rested easy in his chest, and turned to you.
"Do you enjoy the season?" He asked, his words as spiritually invigorated as his steps.
"Peret?" You asked. You looked ahead. "I suppose so. The smell of fresh silt... fresh flowers. And the absence of the noise of constant stoneworking." You turned to him. "It is nice."
"Indeed," he said, and smiled down at you. "Though at times, I do long for the warmth of Shemu. It is as though Ra Himself encloses you in His arms."
"- and all the children go running for Hapi," you said with a chuckle.
He practically beamed at you. Maybe it was deservedââyou rarely ever reciprocated his conversation. Loathing to admit it, some of your reluctance was due to nervousness in the presence of one both prestigious and beautiful. You blushed again and looked away. Ahkmen, while exceedingly beautiful, would take any compliment of yours and run fifty cubits with it.
The receding floodwaters left swaths of black silt fields stretching from the farmland to the riverbank, trodden daily by both birds and farmers alike gathering for their respective needs. Some boats had been left in the same spots as they had been during the flooding season, and for those, their hulls were settled in the soft, wet earth, muddied and blackened. Further down the muddy shores, tightly bound reed skiffs bobbed at the edge of the water. One in particular had its' binding reeds painted in banded colours of red, gold, and blue, and its' ends curved, ending in wooden lotus caps. It was a nobleman's skiffââperhaps for a son, as the size was enough for, at maximum, only three people. And, of course, it was the one Ahkmen led you to.
By the time you reached it, your sandals were already covered in black silt. Still, Ahkmen offered his hand to help ease you onto the boat, and when you had sat down to lift your legs up and under you, he halted you by a hand on your ankle.
He knelt, one knee in the mud, smiling up at you, and proceeded to slip your sandals off of you.
"I'm sure you don't want mud all over your linens," he said.
He had a point. But the image of him on his knees taking your sandals off was doing you no favours.
In response to your silence, he proceeded with his work, took your shoes off, and washed them in the river. After setting them down beside you, he leased the skiff from its tie to the shore, and pushed off into the water. The waves rushed over your dangling feet, quickly washing away any remnants of dirt. Ahk ran, pushed, jumped aboard, and grabbed hold of the steering stick in one smooth motion. Your hands rushed to steady your weight as the boat rocked, but it soon eased into stillness.
On the other end of the boat with his back to you, Ahk shifted to his knees and looked over his shoulder, throwing you a bright grin. You gave a terse smile in return.
"Do you take boat rides often?" He asked, returning his attention to steering.
You watched the muscles in his arms and shoulder flex and curve, their shadows and glistenings building and diminishing in the sunlight with each strike of the oar against the riverbed.
"No," you said after a moment. "It's not an activity my father especially enjoys."
"Your father?" Ahkmen repeated. "Are you only allowed on the Nile if your father says so?"
"Something like that. Only if he wants to... in which case he'll take me, whether I want to or not," you said, redirecting your gaze from his tanned skin to the rippling water echoing from the skiff's belly.
Across from you, Ahkmen scrunched his nose dissatisfactorally.
"Only when he wants to?" He scoffed. "How ridiculous. My father allows me much more freedom."
You snorted some vague agreement, and kept your eyes on the water.
"You know," he began, "your father seemed very willing to let me borrow you. Perhaps, in the future, if you ever want for something, you can tell him I've invited you someplace. Whatever it is you want to do, I shall accompany you."
"How kind," you said with little emotion.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said. Apparently he had some difficulty picking up on your cues. "After all, I have been wanting to spend time with you. You just always seem to disappear whenever I have time to spare."
You cleared your throat, straightening your posture.
"Yes, um... I apologize," you said quickly. "To be honest, I..."
You sighed roughly. This was not something you wanted to admit, but you had already started the confession, and you had no lie to fill the space of this truth. To save yourself some embarrassment, you looked firmly away from Ahkmen.
"... your presence makes me a little nervous," you finished in a mumble.
"Nervous?" He repeated, then laughed. "There's no need to be nervous. I am just as human as you are. Closer to the Gods, perhaps, but still human."
You held back an irritated growl. Fortunately, that passed under his ears, and he continued talking in blissful ignorance.
"I suppose you don't go swimming much, then, if you don't go out on boats often. You know, if strikes me as strangeââthe poor go to the river every day to bathe, and yet when a noble goes to the river, it is considered leisure; a break from their duties. Don't you think it's odd, that difference?"
"I suppose," you said quietly. "I always just summed it up that our lives are very different. Chores to some are pleasure to others, and the other way around."
You weren't sure if he even heard you or processed your response. He simply hummed affirmatively and continued rambling, rowing downstream all the while. Between his statements and rhetorical questions, you nodded in vague agreement, adding in sparse verbal responses to assure him you were still listeningââeven if you weren't. Most of your attention was instead consumed by the passing water, the growing abundance of green reeds, the occasional passing grove of blue lotus and lily pads, and the cold winds blowing in from the north. In fact, you hardly noticed when Ahkmen stopped talking, and were quite surprised to turn your head and find him on his hands and knees in front of you, eyes wide as he studied you meticulously.
You jumped back, rocking the skiff slightlyââbut the motion was minute, halted by the growing bundles of reeds on either side.
"I hope this is better," he said.
"Wh - what's better?" You asked, attempting to slow your breathing to normal.Â
"The reeds. They should keep the wind out, at least a little bit," he said, gesturing to the surrounding flora with his head.Â
"Oh." You lowered your defensive hand. "Um... thank you. I - I think it is helping."
While the wind did still rustle and blow through the reeds and nearby bushes onshore, Ahkmen had steered you into a thick and tall patch. None of the reeds surrounding you were moved by the breeze.
Ahkmen smiled.
"Good," he said. "I am glad to hear it."
You glanced to the side, waiting for him to back away, but he did not. He stayed on his hands and knees, so close you could mistake him for a dog attempting to sniff your face. Fortunately, Ahkmen was much more pleasing to the eyeââand to the noseââthan a hound. On the unfortunate side, you had no idea what he wanted with you, and you were beginning to sweat from the proximity.Â
After several minutes, you were unable to hold back the dam of words in your throat.
"Is something wrong?" You finally asked.
"No, not really," he said, but he didn't move away. He didn't even blink. "I'm just trying to figure something out. Or a couple of things, I suppose. My mind wanders."
You raised an eyebrow.
"What are you trying to figure out?"
"At first I was trying to figure out why you don't like me," he said. Still his eyes darted across your faceââfrom each eye to lips, from jawline to cheekbone.Â
"I like you," you lied, feeling rather offended for no reason.
Perhaps it was that he had been able to see through what you deemed a perfectly good disguise of manners and politeness. Or maybeââand you liked this option leastââit was that he didn't seem bothered by you not liking him.
"No... you don't," he said.Â
This time his voice gave way to a softer, yielding tone; one that stretched thin and revealed some hint of sadness.
"Why don't you like me, Ra'inet?" He asked, quirking his head to the side.
It was almost adorable, the way his brow creased and his lips pouted ever so slightly.
"I - I don't... not like you," you stammered, backing up into the curved end of the skiff. He followed, hands as delicate as cat paws upon the boat's floor. "I just â"
You laughed bitterlyââhalf nervousness and half fearââand looked away, biting at your lips.
"My father wants me to get close to you. I think it's a horrible way for a friendship to start, so I â" you looked down, anywhere but Ahk's eyes, "- I'm not exactly jumping at the opportunity to give him what he wants. And besides, all you do is talk about yourself, you're not exactly hard company to not want to be around."
Your face heated to the point of feeling like a sunburn, and you pointedly kept away from Ahkmen's gaze. But he, in all his strange mannerisms and ideas, began to laugh, and that caught your attention. You looked up incredulously, eyes wide as you watched his face split into a wide grin, and laughter rang like bells past his blushing lips. His inexplicable glee did nothing for your heated face, which only grew warmer at the sight.
"Wh - what?" You stammered, your tongue thick and numb in your mouth. "What's so funny?!"
"Nothing, it's just â" he interrupted himself with his own laughter, "- it's hard not to laugh when nearly all my friends have the same problem. Everyone wants their child to be friends with me and somehow, every friend I've managed to pick has despised their parent's pushiness on the matter." He breathed, the laughter having dissipated, but the grin remaining. "You, however, are the first to admit you dislike me."
You spluttered again, shaking your head.
"I never said I dislike you!"
"Ah," he held up a finger, "but you didn't say you like me, either."
"I just â I don't know you very well," you hurried out, running a hand over your hair.
"You haven't given me a chance. And I think you want to... if that blush is anything to go on," he said, and finally, at long last, moved back and out of your space, a smile still curving his perfect lips.
A deep and intense grimace overtook you, eyes wide as your resolve crumbled into embarrassment. If he had continued you either would've started crying or yelling, and for that you were grateful he had the good mind to back off before you exploded. You remained mortified regardless, and your senses, aching to be somewhere else, turned to the world around.Â
The shifting shade of the willow tree, and its' branching, green tendons; the ducks on the opposite shore, and the white heron wading through the reeds nearby. The tiny fish with their scales glittering like diamonds on the riverbed weaving between shadow and sunlight, reed forests and mud flats. Ahkmen sitting across from you, one knee pulled to his chest, and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
You quickly looked away.
"Is this what you wanted to do?" You asked, staring at your bare feet.
"No, I, um... had something else in mind," he said cryptically. "I don't think you're in the mood for it, though."
"Really?" You chuckled weakly. "What was it?"
His smile slowly grew, and you immediately regretted asking. It was too lateââhe was crawling back over, practically jumping out of his skin with how quickly he made it to you.
"I was hoping to break through that hard exterior of yours. I know there's something golden in that eggshell of yours," he said, placing a hand on your foot. "Something lusting for freedom. Adventure, even. A kindred spirit of mine. I, too, dream of escaping the confines of our life... setting sail up the Nile and discovering the Ta-Seti cities in the south. Or, perhaps, travelling into the desert and joining the Wawat, or the Medjay."
The fantasies were not exactly your own; yours more often concerned themselves with going north and exploring the cities across the distant sea, or hiding in the marshes of the delta, far from prying eyes. The spirit, however, was just as yours was, and the sincerity both humoured and surprised you.
"Well... I wouldn't... say no," you said slowly.
Ahkmen beamed.
"I knew it!" He jumped up, rocking the boat. Your hands shot out to grab the sides. "I knew I could see -"
He was abruptly cut off by his own yelp as he lost balance on the wobbling boat, and was promptly plunged into the cold, shallow waters of the Nile. By the time you reached a hand out to help, he was already soaked, and had splashed you in the process.Â
You slowly opened your tightly shut eyes, and found him looking rather shocked, his white linen shendyt turned a splattered shade of brown. The two of you sat still as the event slowly processed. A smile crept across your face.
His gaze fluttered and turned to you as you began to laugh, covering your mouth as laughter as bright and wondrous as Hathor's sistrums sang through the papyrus reeds and willow leaves. He stared, mouth open in wonder, before laughing with you, slowly and shyly at first but with growing humour. Shifting upwards, he walked over to you on his knees, placing his hands on the skiff's edge.
"I knew I could see something shining in those eyes," he said, chuckling breathily. "You try so very hard to dull it, but I can see."
"You pride yourself as perceptive, don't you?"
"I have to pride myself on something," he replied.
"You have lots of things to pride yourself on," you said, furrowing your brow.
"Really?" He said with a smirk, leaning in. "Why don't you enlighten me?"
"No, I don't think I want to bolster your ego any more than it already has been," you said, and despite yourself, you leaned in as well.
"Actually, I think it's hit the firmament. I'm as bolstered as they come, you might as well indulge me," he said, shrugging. "Come now. Consider it your apology for lying when you said you don't like me."
You shook your head, laughing.
"I never said I don't like you."
"Fine," he said. "An apology for lying to yourself."
You raised a bemused eyebrow.Â
"Fine," you said, raising your chin. "Above your insightfulness, you are... energetic... joyous... and rather beautiful."
"You would put beauty above the ability to see clearly? A grave mistake, my dear," he said.
"Well, maybe you're just that beautiful," you said before you could stop yourself.Â
A blush appeared on his cheeks, but it did nothing to diminish his smile.Â
"I could say the same about you," he said in a murmur, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes. "But there are far more interesting things in your mind."
"How kind of you to say," you murmured in reply.
"Nothing but the truth," he said with a grin.
He was close now, the both of you having leaned in in small intervals, till it would take no more than swift movement of your lips forward to kiss him. This time it was your gaze that faltered and fell to his lipsââbut he did not acquiesce to the quiet desire. Instead, he backed away and stood, his skirt dripping with water.
"I suppose I ought to take you home soon. Your father will wonder where you are," he said, wringing the linen in such a way that revealed his upper thighs.
You tried your best not to stare. The tanned skin blending into pale tempted you deeply, but you kept your eyes on his face, only watching out of your peripheral vision.
"I think I can stay for a little longer," you said with a small shrug. "I'm sure my father won't mind, considering I'm with the Prince."
Ahkmen looked up from his skirt, a mischievous smile on his face.
"See?" He said. "I knew I liked you."
The heat of midday was passed on the river in the shade of the arching willow tree, and when the winds became too much, Ahkmen dutifully rowed you back towards the main city. He obtained for you, to eat near the fires of the public bakeries, a bowl of sunbaked dates still fresh from the hot season. The sun quickly set, as it often did in the season of Peret, and the two of you watched the light disappear behind mudbrick buildings and distant palaces. Ahkmen walked you home, and from the riverside plucked a lotus for you to keep.
"We will see each other again before this lotus wilts," he said, earnesty in his eyes gleaming with sunset. "Yes?"
You swallowed thickly, and with a racing heart, found with starting clarity that you liked the Prince much, much more than you ever thought you hated him.
"Yes," you said after a moment's silence. "Of course."
summary You know Josh is gross â the way he looks at you, touches you, says things no decent guy would â but somehow, his desperate obsession feels intoxicating. He's pathetic, and filthy, which is exactly why nobody can know. (read on ao3)
wc 8.4k words
warnings explicit (MDNI!), PIV, fingering, masturbation, semi-rough sex, degradation, humiliation&praise kink, dub-con elements, bit of overstimulation, semi-public sex, emotional manipulation, obsessive/manipulative behaviour, general creepy and grossness from josh, unprotected sex, some noncon touching, alcohol use, sub/dom dynamics grey area
pairing josh washintgon x fem!reader (+ mentions of rest of until dawn gang)
You donât tell your friends about Josh.
You canât. Heâs just⊠ugh. Gross.Â
Not in a hygienic way. No, he showersâprobably too often, given how his skin always looks stretched tight over his cheekbones, shiny and a little raw, like he scrubs himself bloody each morning to peel away whatever filth clings to him from the night before.
And his hair, while thick and styled with cheap gel that flakes off onto his shoulders, still somehow reeks of expensive cologne. The type that burns your nostrils with its sharp, synthetic sweetness, clashing horribly with the stale tang of sweat that seeps through by midday.
No, gross in the way he looks at you.
His gaze is⊠devouring.Â
Like heâs trying to imagine exactly what youâd look like stripped bare, mouth parted, eyes wetâlike heâs undressing you in his mind and finding ways to ruin you all at once.
His eyes dart over your body too fast, greedy, like he doesnât want anyone else to notice what heâs doing but he also canât control it.Â
And when your eyes accidentally meet, he always smirks. That horrible, twitchy smirk that never reaches his eyes, his tongue running across his bottom lip as if tasting something only he can see.
Your friends noticed it immediately.
The first time he stumbled over to your group at a house party, a few beers deep, pupils blown wide and glassy, that grin split his face so wide it almost looked painful.
âLadies,â he slurred, his voice thick with booze and something else, something sticky and leering, âwhatâs going on over here, huh? Talking about me?â
âFuck off.â You snapped at him immediately.
You remember your immediate eye roll, how it only seemed to spur him on. His eyes snapped to you, laser-focused, pupils twitching like he couldnât keep them still.
He let out a short, barking laugh, leaning closer, his free hand coming up to clumsily fix his fringe before it fell right back into his eyes.
âOr are we talking about you tonight?â he drawled, swaying forward so close you could smell the stale beer and cheap cologne mixing with his sweat. âGod, you lookâfuckâ you know you look good, right? Youâre like⊠fuckinâ dangerous.â He hiccuped, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving yours. âYouâre⊠Samâs little pal, yeah? Bet she doesnât even know what to do with you.â
You scoffed, looking away, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted. âFuck. Off.â
But he didnât. His gaze dropped to your chest, lingering there like he was etching every inch into memory, then dragged lower with a grossly audible sigh. He licked his lips, slow and deliberate, before leaning in, his mouth brushing your ear as he whispered, voice trembling with cocky desperation, âBet you taste even better than you look, huh? Fuck⊠Iâd ruin you.â
Then, like nothing happened, he snapped upright with that manic, boyish grin plastered back onto his face, eyes flicking around the group, manic energy radiating off him. âAnywayâwhoâs getting me another drink? Iâm fuckinâ parched.â
He watched your reaction with a flicker of dark amusement, eyes narrowing slightly as his grin widened. It was like he was cataloguing every tiny twitch of disgust on your face, savouring it.Â
But what really caught his attentionâwhat made his pupils darken with something greedy and almost triumphantâwas how you didnât tell him to fuck off this time.
You just stood there, glaring, lips pressed tight, shoulders tense.Â
And he liked that. He liked it way too much.
Chris had to drag him away by the elbow, muttering an apology under his breath as Josh twisted to keep staring at you, his eyes unfocused but hungry, like a stray dog seeing scraps.
As soon as he left, your friends circled up, wide-eyed.
 âOh my god, what was that?â one asked, laughing nervously. âWhatâd he say to you?â
âWhere do men get the audacity?â another chimed in, rolling her eyes. âHeâs so gross.âÂ
Then they turned to you, eyebrows raised. âDid you see the way he was looking at you? Like he wanted to⊠I donât even know. Eat you alive or something.âÂ
âLiterally. He gives me the creeps,â one friend shuddered, sipping her drink. âDid you hear what he said to Anna last week? Told her she âlooked like a pornstar from the nineties, in a hot wayâ. Who even says that?âÂ
âUgh, remember when he asked Sarah if her boobs were real? At brunch? In front of everyone? Heâs disgusting. You'd think all that money, he'd have some manners.âÂ
You just laughed along with them, cheeks burning, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the thought of him wanting to âeat you aliveâ.Â
Another time youâd mentioned to Sam offhand that you were cramping badly, and Josh, overhearing from across the kitchen, piped up: âThatâs kinda hot though. Like⊠primal or some shit.â
Youâd gagged into your cereal bowl.
Men like him have always existed.
Too cocky for their own good, a little unhinged, but never quite dangerous enough for anyone to actually cut them off. The type who toes the line with crude jokes and lingering touches, only to grin and apologise with that manic glint in his eyes, and somehow everyone just lets it slide.Â
Heâs funny, or at least loud enough to pass for it.
Charismatic in that slippery, suffocating way that keeps him invited to every party you go to, keeps him perched at the edge of every group dinner, leaning back with his arms spread across the seat like he owns the world.Â
But itâs the way he looks at you that makes your skin crawl.
His gaze turns dark when it lands on youâhungry, feverish, like he wants to peel you open and crawl inside, nestle there and never leave. Like he wants to keep you all to himself, hidden away beneath his fingernails and teeth.Â
And he never tries to hide it.
Not at parties. Not in the warm candlelight glow of a crowded dinner table. Not when youâre laughing with friends and feel his stare burn across your throat like a brand.Â
You always catch it.Â
The way his eyes slid over your body like oil, lingering a bit too long on your chest, your thighs, lips parted just slightly like he was already picturing what theyâd feel like wrapped around him.Â
Heâs touchy, too.
Always brushing past you when thereâs plenty of room, his palm hot against your lower back as you walk through a crowd. When he compliments a dress or shirt youâre wearing, he just has to know what it feels like, running his fingers over the material, dragging them across your skin beneath it if he can, even when your face scrunches up in disgust and your friendsâ jaws drop at the sheer audacity of Josh.
The worst part is⊠you never really discourage him. You just roll your eyes, mumble a half-hearted âStop it, Josh,â and move on. You never actually push him away when his hands settle near your midriff or drift up towards your collarbone, fingers gripping at the fabric like he wants to rip it away.
Heâs just one of those guys.
He laughs too loud â breathy and obnoxious, echoing through the room.
He says things that are just a bit too sexual, even to his other female friends like Jess or Ashley, little comments that make them shift uncomfortably closer to their boyfriends, which he loves doing in front of them.
He jokes too much about wanting to roleplay or choke someone out, watching your face closely after he says it, eyes dark and mouth curled up in that stupid smirk.
He messages you at 3am, âu up? â€ïž,â and when you donât respond, he sends another. And another.Â
Sometimes you wonder why heâs like that.Â
His sisters seem totally normal â Hannahâs a bit naĂŻve, sure, and Beth can be firm when she needs to be, but theyâre normal. Theyâre just too rich for their own good. Their parents stopped caring a long time ago.
And Josh⊠Josh fucking loves that mountain lodge they own. Heâs always talking about it, about how quiet it is up there, alone in the snow, how you could scream and no one would hear.Â
He once told you, straight-faced, âYouâd look so fucking hot crying. Like, properly sobbing. Bet your mascara would run all down your face.â
It wasnât even during an argument, or after a joke, or anything that might have excused it. Youâd just been sitting there on the back deck, scrolling through your phone as he smoked, the fading sun casting gold across the lake.
You hadnât even been talking to him. Youâd just sighed quietly to yourself at some sad video, blinking fast to keep your eyes from watering.
Josh exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyes locked on your face, studying every little twitch of your expression. Then he said it. Calm. Flat. Like an observation about the weather.
You looked up sharply, heart stuttering in your chest. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?â you whispered, disgust curling thick and heavy in your throat.
He just smirked wider, tongue flicking across his bottom lip as his gaze flicked down your face, lingering at your mouth. âNothing,â he said softly, almost to himself. âAbsolutely nothing at all.â
Then he stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and walked back inside, leaving you there with your pulse pounding in your temples, your skin crawling so violently it felt like you might scratch it all off just to be clean again.
Heâs pathetic. Heâs gross. Weird. Perverted.
Which is exactly why nobody could know.
It happened at the lodge, of course. Where else would it happen?Â
Just a winter getaway, late January. Youâd come up with Sam, your duffel bag stuffed with sweaters and thick socks, expecting nothing more than hot cocoa, card games, and maybe a freezing dip in the lake for bragging rights.Â
Josh called while you were halfway up the mountain road, the icy trees blurring past outside. The moment he heard your voice crackling through the car speakers, you swear he nearly came right then and there.Â
âFuck, yeah. Fuck. Yeah.â His breathing was ragged over the line, like heâd been running or⊠something else. âYouâre gonna have the time of your life, babe, I swear. Iâve told you about how qââÂ
ââI know, Josh. Itâs quiet. Shut up now,â you snapped, cutting him off before his filthy mouth could say something else that would make Sam roll his eyes in disgust.
Too late, she was gagging at the âbabeâ of it all.
Josh just laughed. That low, manic, bubbling laugh that always made your stomach twist, equal parts revulsion and dread. He was never put off by your impatience.
If anything, it only spurred him on.Â
âGod, youâre such a little bitch sometimes,â he chuckled, voice dropping low, filthy, almost fond. âGonna be a fun weekend.â
âWatch it, Josh,â Sam remarked. âSeriously, sheâs my friend, stop acting all⊠you.â
âShe doesnât mind, do you babe?â
âFuck off,â Is all you say.
It started earlier that night.
Youâre rummaging through your duffel bag looking for clean socks when you notice your folded underwear sitting a little off from how you packed them. Your stomach clenches cold. The lace is twisted around itself in a way you know you didnât leave it. Wrinkled. Handled.
You frown, fingers brushing over the cotton, then glance up to see Josh standing in the doorway.
Watching.
He smiles slowly, eyes flicking down to your open bag before meeting yours again. His gaze is glassy, hungry, lips parted just slightly like heâs been panting. You notice then the way his hand flexes at his side, fingers twitching like theyâre aching to touch.
âNeed any help unpacking?â he asks, voice syrupy sweet, but thereâs a rasp to it, raw and shaky, like heâs been breathing heavy for a while.
Your skin crawls. âNo,â you snap, shoving the bag closed, feeling your cheeks burn with disgust and something shameful under his stare.
But as you walk past him, his arm brushes yours. He leans in close enough that his breath fans hot over your ear, and under his deodorant and sweat you catch a faint, bitter tang that makes your stomach flipâlike heâs been working himself up alone in the dark.
âCute panties,â he whispers, so low youâre not sure you heard it right. But then he laughs, a quiet, broken little chuckle, and you know.
You push past him, heart hammering, bile rising in your throat. But even as you leave, you can feel it. His stupid fucking staring.
The cabin was warm and golden with firelight, flickering shadows making everyone look softer, prettier, a little drunker than they really were. Youâd spent most of dinner ignoring Joshâs gaze burning into your side profile as you laughed at Mikeâs stupid impressions. You felt it â every time you tilted your head back, his eyes dragged down your throat, your chest, your arms. Devouring.Â
He barely spoke through dinner. Just watched. Picking at his food with trembling fingers, flicking glances around the table to keep up the pretence of normalcy, then dragging them back to you like gravity.
Afterwards, he and Chris set up beer pong, coaxing everyone to join in with drunken cheers and clumsy bravado.
âYou play?â Josh asks as he gets one in.
You stood beside the table, sipping on a beer yourself. âNot really. Canât aim for shit.â
âIâll teach you. Câmon, itâs easy,â He insists, waving you to come closer.
You sigh, feeling the glances of Emily and Jess, both of whom have mightily advised you to stay away from Josh.
âHeâs a sweet guy, like, we wouldnât be friends with him if he was a total dick, right? But like, you can do so much better, girl.â
Despite it, you agree. He smiles as you step closer, taking the ping pong ball out of his hand.
âWhat? I just bounce it right in?â
âYeah. Yeah. You just- alright, maybe pick a cup you wanna get it in.â
âFine. Um. Third row from the front, second from the left.âÂ
âGood girl,â he says without thinking, voice low and hoarse. Your stomach clenches at that, unbidden.Â
You glance up sharply, but heâs already moving to stand behind you, big clammy hands coming to rest on your hips. You tense. His thumbs press circles into the fabric of your hoodie, squeezing like heâs trying to memorise the shape of your bones beneath it.
âOkay, okay, relax,â he murmurs near your ear, breath hot and beer-sour. âJust⊠line it up. You wanna flick it, not throw it.âÂ
You can feel everyoneâs eyes on you â Mike grinning drunkenly, Jess smirking, Emily rolling her eyes like sheâs already written this scene off as pathetic.
But Josh doesnât care, and maybe you donât either. His entire body is pressed against yours now, his chest firm against your back.Â
His fingers slide down from your hips to rest lightly on your thighs, the touch far too intimate for a party game. You feel him press in a little harder, the swell of his crotch flush against your ass, and you stiffen instinctively.Â
âJosh,â you hiss under your breath, a light reprimand, but he just laughs quietly, his grip tightening like iron shackles.Â
âShh, babe, Iâm just helping you aim,â he murmurs, voice dripping with fake innocence, though you can feel the twitch of his grin against your ear. âCâmon, focus for me.âÂ
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to raise your arm, wrist flicking as you send the ball flying in a clumsy arc. It hits the rim of your chosen cup and bounces out, clattering across the table.Â
âAh, so close,â Josh breathes, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he pulls you tighter against him. You feel him through the thin fabric of your leggings, and your cheeks burn with humiliation.Â
He finally steps back, hands sliding back up to your waist, giving it a squeeze that makes you wriggle under him. âGood try. Keep going.â
You wriggle under the touch, shoving him off with your hip as best you can, glaring over your shoulder. But heâs already stepped back, watching you with that heavy-lidded stare, pupils blown wide, tongue flicking across his bottom lip like heâs tasting the moment.
You canât believe you listen to him.
You do. You try again, shaking out your wrist, and he stays back this time, arms crossed over his chest. His hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, veins snaking down his forearms, hands twitching like heâs resisting the urge to touch you again.Â
âAim with your wrist, not your hand,â he mentions lazily, like itâs a casual afterthought, like he didnât just grind himself against you in front of half your friends.Â
âFuck off,â you remind him flatly, eyes locked on the cup. But you take the advice anyway.
You flick your wrist, the ball arcs neatly, and lands directly in the cup youâd chosen before.Â
Beer sloshes over the rim. Chris and Mike whoop, Ashley cheers, Emily claps sarcastically.Â
âBabies first beer pong,â Jess teases, raising her cup to her lips.Â
You smile despite yourself, feeling a flicker of pride, looking down at the ping pong table and shaking your head. Then you glance at Josh, expecting a cocky comment, and find him staring at you with an expression so intense it makes your stomach clench.Â
You give him a small, reluctant smile, just a twitch of your lips. âThanks, coach,â you mutter, sipping your beer to hide the flush in your cheeks. Then you add under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear: âNever touch me again, though.âÂ
He just grins at that, wide and twitchy and obscene, raising both hands like heâs surrendering to the cops. âDonât know what youâre talkinâ about,â he says, voice thick with mock innocence.Â
You roll your eyes, but thereâs heat rising in your chest that you try to shove down, turning away before you can think too much about it. As you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, you catch Emily watching you from across the table, eyebrows raised, an amused, questioning smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
Your smirk fades instantly. You duck your head, focusing hard on your beer, willing the flush on your cheeks to cool down before anyone else notices.
Youâve always heard nothing good happens past midnight.
Youâd have to agree.
You slept too much on the drive over, and now youâre wide awake, curled up on the loveseat as the fire burns low, dying phone in hand. Chris had nearly lit himself on fire trying to get the thing started earlier, and everyone had laughed until their ribs ached.
Now itâs quiet. Everyone else has drifted off to bed, sprawled out in spare rooms and on couches, bodies heavy with beer and whiskey and shots of something sweet Josh found in the back of the liquor cabinet.
You sobered up a while ago, nursing a wine, staring into the embers as they collapsed in on themselves.Â
Almost everyone had gone to bed.Â
You hear the footsteps before you see him. Heavy, uneven, like heâs dragging his feet across the polished wood floors just to let you know heâs coming. You donât bother turning. You already know.Â
Josh stumbles in from the kitchen, hoodie unzipped, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair sticking up in greasy tufts like heâs been tugging at it all night. Like heâs been pacing and thinking and pacing some more.Â
When he sees you, his whole face changes. That stupid grin unfurls across his lips, slow and twitchy, his eyes going soft and dark all at once. Hungry. Lazy. Like heâs just come home to something warm and waiting.
âCouldnât sleep?â he wonders.Â
You donât look up from your phone. âNope.âÂ
He chuckles under his breath, moving closer, the floor creaking under his weight. âYeah. Me neither.âÂ
He exhales a shaky sigh, like the sight of you actually calms him, shoulders dropping as he steps around the couch to stand in front of you. The shadows from the fire flicker across his face, catching on the sharp plane of his cheekbones, the wet gleam of his lips. He smells like sweat and cologne and stale beer. Overpowering. Cloying.Â
For a moment he just⊠looks at you, stood between the couch and fireplace. Like heâs drinking in the sight, pupils blown wide, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You flick your gaze up at him, and his breath catches, chest hitching like you just punched the air out of his lungs.Â
âStop staring at me like that,â you mutter, voice flat, phone now of no interest to you.
He raises his hands again, surrendering. âLike what?â
âJoshâŠâ You sigh, tired, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your palm. The fire crackles behind him, shadows dancing across his sharp cheeks, making him look almost skeletal. Gaunt. Haunted.
Because he knows. He knows exactly how he looks at you. Everybody does. He finally drops it.
âOh, come on,â he scoffs, but thereâs no real bite behind it. His words are low, slurred at the edges, eyes flickering over your face with something like pleading. âIâmâ Iâm nothinâ but a gentleman to you, arenât I?â His brows twitch together, mouth twisting into something sour. âI⊠I keep my distance. I deal with your attitude, donât I?â He chuckles, but itâs hollow, wet at the end like heâs swallowing back something desperate.
You stare at him, brows drawn tight. Heâs rambling, voice dropping to a whisper.Â
âCanât I justâ canât I just have one thing?â
You blame the wine for how you donât stop him as he takes a slow step closer, like youâre his prey. Except he just watches.
âIs that alright with you?â He mumbles. âIf youâre not⊠gonna give me what I want.â
You canât help it. âWhat do you want?â
He scoffs a dry laugh at that and points at you like youâve just told a hilarious joke. âThe playing dumb thing is cute. Real cute, you know?â He chuckles to himself.
God, if your friends knew you were even entertaining this.
A beat of quiet goes by till he takes a seat in the empty spot next to you. He spreads his legs wide, knee bumping against yours. You curl more into yourself, tucking your foot up onto the seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands as you inhale sharply, staring into the fire with him.
Yeah. Heâs fucking weird.
And just⊠crude, and touchy.
But maybe youâre touch-starved. Maybe your ex was too nice. Maybe youâre bored. But he wants you. Heâs never not shown that. Not like the others, who flirt when itâs convenient, whose eyes flick away the moment theyâre bored of the chase.
He looks at you like heâs starving. Like heâd gnaw his own arm off if it meant getting to touch you for a second.Â
And maybe thatâs why you ask himâÂ
âWhy do you like me?â you whisper, voice almost lost beneath the crackle of the fire. You stare down at your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fraying ends of your sleeves.Â
Josh almost doesnât hear it. His glazed eyes remain fixed on the fire, flickering orange reflected in his blown pupils. For a second, you think heâs not going to answer. But then he exhales, a shaky sound that rattles his chest.Â
âYouâre hot,â he says flatly. Like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.Â
You scoff, rolling your eyes, but before you can cut him off he keeps going, words tumbling out clumsy and unfiltered.Â
âYouâre⊠nice. Not always to me, nâ all, but thatâs usually âcause Iâve got it cominâ,â he chuckles, rubbing a hand over his mouth like heâs trying to hide his smile. âBut I see you with Sam. With the others. You⊠I dunno. You care about stuff. About people. Youâre funny. And youâre just so fuckinâ sexy, you know?âÂ
He lets out a low, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly. It sounds almost disbelieving, like he canât believe heâs saying this and youâre actually listening. His knee nudges yours again, firmer this time, like he canât help himself.Â
âI meanâfuckâyouâre sittinâ here lookinâ like that, and youâre talkinâ to me, and⊠shit, dude,â he mumbles, voice going quiet at the end. His gaze finally drags over to you, eyes half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion and liquor and that same disgusting, obsessive hunger. âItâs like⊠I dunno. You make me fuckinâ crazy.âÂ
Your chest tightens, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Itâs pathetic.
Heâs pathetic.
But thereâs a part of youâsome small, rotting part buried deep in your chestâthat feels something warm curl through your ribs at his words. At least he wants you. At least heâs obsessed. And thatâs worth something. Even if heâs gross.
Which is exactly why you lean in without thinking, pressing your lips against his cheek. Your cheap red gloss leaves a faint smear on his sharp bone.
You watch him twitch at the contact, squirming under your gaze when you pull back, still close, your body fully angled towards him now.Â
He turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, confused, silent.Â
Good. He should shut up more often, you think.Â
Before he can say anything, you lean in again.
This time, your lips press against his. Soft at first â he goes completely still, frozen in shock, before his mouth starts to move against yours, clumsy and desperate. You can feel how plush his lips are, how they part under yours like heâs starving for it.Â
You kiss him deeper for just a second, tasting stale beer and mint gum, before pulling away abruptly, leaving him panting.
He stares at you like youâve just handed him the meaning of life on a silver platter. Like he might genuinely explode if you touch him again.Â
âYou canât tell anyone,â you murmur, voice low and firm.Â
He nods so fast itâs pathetic.Â
âAnswer me,â you demand, eyes narrowing.Â
âI-I wonât tell anyone,â he blurts out, voice breaking at the edges.Â
âYou promise?â Your hand slides up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint stubble there, almost tender.Â
His eyes flutter half-shut, lips parting like heâs about to say something worshipful. But he hesitates. âWellââÂ
You fist your fingers into his hair and yank, hard enough to make him gasp, his head tipping back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. âPromise me,â you repeat, your voice like steel.Â
Heâs breathing heavy now, chest rising and falling fast, but a shaky smile curls at the edge of his lips. âYes, maâam,â he breathes out, half joking, half ruined already.
You donât remember how his mouth ended up on yours, chasing it like you would vanish into thin air. How his fingers found their way under your sweater, rough and trembling against the bare skin of your waist. How you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, knees digging into the ratty loveseat cushions on either side of his thighs.Â
His hands clutched at your hips like he was scared youâd slip away. His touch was desperate â not tender, not considerate â just greedy, fingers digging in so tight you knew youâd bruise. You felt his cock straining against his sweats beneath you already, pathetic, hard just from a couple of kisses.Â
âFuckâŠâ he whimpered into your mouth, his voice breaking pathetically as his tongue licked at your bottom lip, sloppy and uncoordinated. âFuck, fuck⊠youâre⊠youâre so fucking hot, oh my godâŠâÂ
You pulled back slightly, just enough to watch his face. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide, chest heaving like heâd run a marathon. Sweat beaded along his hairline despite the chill in the lounge.
He looked⊠kind of beautiful, in a filthy, trembling way. Like something that shouldnât exist, and yet there it was, all yours.
You remember his little noises â those quiet, broken whimpers into your mouth â and the way he said your name like it was the only word he knew.Â
âYouâre a fucking dick,â You muttered softly, but your hips rolled down against him anyway, feeling the way he twitched beneath you, how his breath hitched in his throat.Â
His hands slid up under your hoodie, rough palms skating over your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra. He looked like he might start crying from how overwhelmed he was, lips pink and swollen, gloss smeared across his mouth and chin.Â
âIâve dreamt about this,â he whispered, his voice wrecked. âYou can call me whatever you want. Just⊠please⊠please keep going.âÂ
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.Â
You leaned in again, your mouth ghosting over his ear. âYouâre such a fucking loser, Josh,â you whispered, your tongue darting out to lick the shell of his ear.Â
He shivered violently beneath you, hips jerking up against yours involuntarily. âYeahâŠâ he breathed out, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, squeezing like he was trying to memorise the shape of it. âI donât care⊠donât fucking careâŠâÂ
You kissed him again, harder this time, biting down on his bottom lip until he let out a strangled groan into your mouth. His hips were grinding up into you now, desperate little thrusts that made your stomach twist with disgust and reluctant heat.Â
Because at least he wanted you. At least he was obsessed.Â
At least when his eyes rolled back and his hands shook against your skin, it was because of you. Only you.Â
God, youâre pathetic.
His hands slip out from under your shirt, fumbling down to grab at your ass, squeezing rough and greedy as you kiss him harder.
You move his hand lower, guiding it yourself until his fingertips brush the waistband of your sleep shorts. He lets out a ragged little gasp at the contact, the sound muffled by your mouth, and you can feel him twitch beneath you, pathetic.Â
You drag his hand under the thin cotton, down into your panties. He hesitates for half a second, almost like heâs overwhelmed, before his fingers slip lower and finally swipe through your folds.Â
You break the kiss with a shaky inhale, your forehead dropping to rest against his as you feel him touch your core, wet and hot against his trembling fingers. His breath hitches, chest rising sharply under yours, and his eyes flutter between your flushed face and the sight of his hand buried under your shorts.Â
âFuck⊠youâreâŠâ he starts, voice hoarse with disbelief as he feels just how wet you are.Â
âShut up,â you mutter quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.Â
He just nods, swallowing hard, but his mouth wonât stay shut for long. âIâve⊠Iâve thought about this for so fucking long, you know,â he rambles, his voice cracking at the edges with desperation. âI⊠fuck, I canât believe this is realâŠâ
Youâre about to tell him to stop talking again, but then his thumb brushes your clit, light and tentative. Your hips jolt forward involuntarily, a moan slipping from your parted lips. His eyes flick back to your face, pupils blown wide, drinking in the way you scrunch your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip.
His thumb starts circling your clit, slow at first, as his fingers dip lower, teasing at your entrance but never pushing in.Â
âI jack off to you all the time,â he breathes out, his voice low and trembling. âIn the shower. In bed. Fuckinââ even in the bathroom at work sometimes⊠Youâre like⊠youâre a fucking dream, you know that?âÂ
You let out a shaky exhale, pressing your face into his shoulder to muffle your noises when he finally sinks a finger inside you, crooking it experimentally. Itâs rough and clumsy, nothing like how you touch yourself, but his fingers are thicker, reaching deeper, the stretch making your thighs quiver around his hips.Â
He chuckles low in his chest, dark and filthy. âIâve thought⊠fuck⊠thought about putting you in so many different positions,â he murmurs, curling his finger inside you just right, making your breath stutter. âThought about your mouth around my dick. Thought about what kind of noises youâd make when I fuck you. Bet you sound so pretty, donât you?âÂ
He thrusts the single finger slowly, and itâs not enough. Not even close. You reach back, grabbing his wrist, guiding his movements. âLower,â you pant out, voice strained, âand⊠another.âÂ
His eyes roll back at your words, a guttural little whine escaping his throat as he obeys immediately, pressing a second finger in beside the first. You let out a choked moan, your back arching as he scissors them open, finding the spot that makes your thighs shake.Â
âFuck⊠fuck, look at youâŠâ he whispers, voice shaking with reverence as he pumps his fingers deeper, thumb rubbing fast, messy circles over your clit. âSo good for me⊠riding my fingers like thatâŠâÂ
You move against him, grinding down desperately, chasing the feeling, your breath hitching with each thrust. His fingers fill you perfectly, curling just right, thumb flicking your clit faster. Your vision blurs at the edges. âRight there, right thereâŠâ You mumble.
âIâve thought about tying you up,â he mutters, ignoring your praise, his voice wrecked, eyes glued to your flushed face and parted lips. âWould you⊠would you let me do that? Hm? Tie you up, spread you open⊠fuck, Iâd ruin you.âÂ
You let out a shaky breath, pretending like youâre ignoring his words, but the flush that spreads down your chest gives you away. You canât even speak, can only nod weakly, your hips rolling faster, thighs trembling around him.Â
âFuck⊠fuck, thatâs so hot,â he groans quietly, his fingers thrusting deeper, thumb relentless over your clit. âGod⊠youâre gonna come for me, arenât you? Gonna come all over my fingers⊠fuck, please⊠please, babyâŠâ
âShit, thatâs so hot,â He exclaims quietly, watching as you ride on his fingers.
Your stomach coils tighter, heat building fast, his filthy words spurring you closer and closer as you ride his hand, desperate little whimpers muffled against his neck. His thumb is relentless over your clit, circles sloppy and fast, his two fingers thrusting deep inside you, curling up just right, stretching you open around him.Â
âThatâs it,â he breathes out shakily, his lips brushing your ear as his voice drops low, dark, possessive. âSo good for me⊠making those pretty little noises⊠canât let anyone hear, can you?âÂ
You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as the coil in your stomach snaps tight. Your body clenches around his fingers, a broken sob tearing out of your throat despite how you bite down on his shoulder to muffle it.
The orgasm rips through you, hot and fast, your thighs trembling violently around his hips as you cum hard on his fingers, grinding down desperately as if you could drag out every last wave.Â
âThatâs it⊠good fucking girl,â he whispers raggedly, his breath shaking against your cheek as he keeps thrusting his fingers, slower now, helping you ride it out.Â
You pant into his neck, your forehead pressed to the sweaty skin there, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Your whole body feels loose, trembling with aftershocks, but youâre hyper-aware of the way his cock is straining hard against his sweatpants beneath you, pressed snug between your soaked core and his stomach.Â
Even through the fabric you can feel how hot and hard he is, twitching with every tiny shift of your hips. He lets out a strangled little whine when your hips shift involuntarily, rutting up against you with desperate need.
His hands grip at your ass, holding you tight against him, grinding up into your clothed crotch shamelessly as he pants into your hair.Â
âPleaseâŠâ he whimpers, his voice wrecked, needy and pathetic. âPlease⊠need you so bad⊠please let meâŠâÂ
His forehead drops to your shoulder, lips parted against your skin as he ruts up against you again, cock throbbing hard under his sweats, leaving a wet patch where precum soaks through. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh like heâs scared youâll pull away.Â
You can feel his chest heaving against yours, his whole body trembling with restraint as he keeps himself from flipping you over and taking what he wants.
Because he knows â he knows he has to wait for you to give it to him.Â
And maybe thatâs what makes this feel so fucking good. Knowing how desperate he is. How completely and utterly at your mercy he is right now, shaking beneath you like a dog begging for scraps.
Without warning, you spit quickly onto your palm, the wet heat slicking your skin. Your hand slides between you both, bold and unhesitating, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, then under his boxers, curling around the length of his cock.Â
His mouth falls open, a ragged breath catching in his throat before it bursts into a long, desperate groanâtoo loud, too raw. You clamp your other hand swiftly over his mouth, fingers pressing firmly against his cheek.Â
âBe quiet,â you hiss, voice low and sharp. âOr Iâll fucking leave you here.âÂ
You see the flicker of genuine horror cross his face at the thought, eyes wide and glassy. His body tenses, trembling under your touch. He nods quickly, swallowing hard behind your hand.Â
Still, the soft, pitiful whimpers press against your palm as his lips press and bite lightly, nearly grazing your skin. You grip him tighter, thumb stroking up and down, moving slow and deliberate, letting him drown in the feeling while you hold the reins.
Your hand moves carefully, almost possessiveâlike youâre trying to tame something wild and broken beneath your touch. His body shudders against you, tense but craving, the heat radiating through the thin fabric of his sweats.
Heâs barely holding himself together, that desperate, hungry edge never leaving his eyes, even though his lips stay pressed beneath your palm, muffling his ragged breaths and quiet whines.Â
You can feel the frantic pulse beneath your fingers, the slick heat that speaks of him straining on the edge. You donât want to drag this out any longer than it has to.
You want one thing and heâs already got you there once, which is already more than you expected.Â
You just keep moving your hand, slow and steady, fingers tracing the line between pleasure and pain, between control and surrender.Â
Suddenly, you pull your hands away, leaving him trembling and exposed beneath your touch. His cock presses hard against his stomach, eyes wide and glassy as he watches you, dumbfounded.Â
Without hesitation, you shimmy down your shorts and panties, the fabric slipping to the floor with a soft thud. His breath hitches, a string of low, shocked curses escaping his lips like he canât quite believe this is really happening.Â
His hand rises hesitantly, replacing yours, fingers wrapping around his own aching length, moving in a slow, desperate rhythm as his gaze stays locked on you.Â
âCan you, umââ He gestures awkwardly toward your hoodie, hesitation thick in his voice.Â
You freeze, a flicker of doubt flashing through your mind. Stripped bare before him, while he remains warm and clothed, the imbalance of power sharp as ever. But his eyes, burning with that twisted mixture of hunger and awe, drag you forward.Â
With a reluctant breath, you tug off the hoodie, the cool air prickling your skin as you settle back onto his lap, careful to keep just enough distance to remind him this isnât softness or tendernessâitâs control.Â
He watches, hand moving faster now, slick with sweat, as you unclip your braârevealing curves that have him practically swallowing his own breath.Â
Your heart hammers loud in the stillness. Anyone could walk in at any moment. You pray the whiskey haze keeps the others oblivious, safe behind closed doors and heavy lids.Â
âHoly shit,â he rasps, voice thick with disbelief and need.Â
One hand never leaving his cock, the other tentatively reaching for your bare tits, fingers exploring, squeezing like heâs trying to memorise every inch. You shiver under the weight of his touchâequal parts revulsion and reluctant heat.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â he whimpers into your neck, voice ragged and wet. âYouâre so fuckingâgod, youâre so warm, please, please let meââÂ
You barely hear him. Your brain is cotton-wool fuzz, heat coiling tight in your stomach as you grip his hair, forcing him to look at you. His eyes roll back slightly, lids fluttering, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his hips jerk up again, desperate for friction, moving his hands to your waist, holding your back towards him.
âYouâre pathetic.â you mutter, your voice flat, empty.
âYeah,â he breathes, nodding into your grip, his fingers digging bruises into your hips.
You watch him for a second. Watch the way his chest heaves with each ragged breath, sweat dripping down his temples, gloss smeared across his swollen lips. You could almost laugh. This is Josh Washington. Rich kid. The Black Sheep, even in his own friend group. Reduced to a whining, trembling mess beneath you.Â
You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock again. He sobs at the touch, forehead thunking forward against your collarbone. âPlease, please,â he whispers, voice shaking so hard it cracks. âI need it, I need you, I needââÂ
âShhh,â you say softly, cutting him off.Â
Your thumb brushes over the flushed head, smearing the precum down his shaft as his thighs twitch under you. You guide him to your entrance, sinking down slowly. The stretch burns and heâs not even all the way in, but the way he chokes on his moan makes the discomfort worth it.Â
His hands fly to your waist, gripping hard enough to leave fingerprints. âFuck, oh fuck, oh my god,â he gasps, eyes wide and shining in the dim firelight. âYou feelâfuckâbetter than I ever imagined.âÂ
You roll your hips experimentally, feeling him twitch inside you. Heâs thick, not huge, but big enough to make your eyes flutter shut as he fills you completely.Â
âGod, please,â he whines, thrusting up helplessly. âLet me, let me fuck you, please, I need toââÂ
You slap your hand over his mouth again, silencing his desperate noises as you start to move. The couch creaks beneath you with every bounce, the springs whining under your combined weight. âShut up, for fucks sake,â you hiss. âYou want everyone to wake up and see what a pathetic little perv you are?â You spit. âHearing about how you touch yourself to me, how youâre a fucking weirdo, going through my underwear, tellin' me how you wanna see me crying... making all those stupid, stupid jokes?â
He moans against your palm, eyes rolling back, fingers digging into your flesh like heâs holding on for dear life. His hips jerk up into yours in sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts, chasing the tight heat of your cunt like an animal.Â
Tears are brimming in his eyes now, lashes wet and clumped together as he looks up at you like youâre the fucking messiah.Â
âShit. Shit. Fuck. Iâm- Gonna cumââ he tries to say against your hand, voice muffled and broken.Â
âAlready?â you mock, leaning in close so your lips brush his ear. âGod, youâre fucking useless.âÂ
That does it. His whole body seizes under you, back arching off the loveseat as he cums with a choked, pathetic sob. Hot, wet pulses fill you as his hips keep twitching, his entire body trembling like he might collapse if you let go of him.Â
You donât stop moving. You keep grinding down onto him, ignoring his whimpers of overstimulation, using his cock for your own pleasure. His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent moan as his hips jerk involuntarily. He hits just the right spot, and you quickly move to shove your lips against his, moaning into his mouth to quiet yourself.
âFuck, fuck,â you mumble, your stomach tightening dangerously. The heat coils low in your gut as you ride him harder, his cock stretching you open, every inch filthy and overwhelming. âDo you have any ideaââÂ
Your words cut off with a sharp whimper when his hands come up to your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending electric shocks down your spine. He looks up at you like youâre god, eyes glazed, mouth falling open before he leans in, kissing across your chest, lips hot and wet as he wraps them around your nipple, sucking hard.Â
âAny idea how⊠humiliating this is?â you pant out, voice trembling, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bounce in his lap, the slap of skin on skin echoing faintly over the crackle of the dying fire.Â
He moans against your chest, tongue flicking over your nipple, drool and spit mixing with his feverish kisses. His eyes flick up to yours, pupils blown wide, glassy with tears from sheer sensory overload. He doesnât stop. His hands squeeze your breasts tighter, thumbs brushing insistently as his hips buck up, desperate for more.Â
âHave any idea how⊠if I was to tell anyone that I fuckedââ you gasp, voice rising, heat building faster and faster, âfucking Josh WashingtonââÂ
He groans at the sound of his name falling from your lips like that, filthy and ruined.Â
âTheyâd think Iâm a fucking weirdo,â you spit out, words dissolving into a breathy moan as he sucks your other nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing it just enough to make your hips stutter against him. âOhâfuck, fuck, right there, fuck.âÂ
He stops for a moment, head falling back against the couch with a low, broken groan as your cunt clenches around him.
âShit,â he breathes, staring down at where youâre joined, at the slick mess dripping down his cock, at the way youâre swallowing him whole with every desperate thrust.Â
Your stomach tightens one final time before the coil snaps, pleasure exploding behind your eyes as you come with a shaking, choked moan. You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth sinking into the material of his hoodie, biting down hard enough to feel the sting in your jaw.Â
He fucks up into you slowly, grinding his cock deep inside, moaning into your hair, his hands trembling against your ribs as he tries to hold himself back. When your orgasm fades, you lift your head slightly, breathing ragged, sweat dripping down your chest. Between your legs is a ruin of slick and cum, his cock twitching still inside you as your walls spasm around him weakly.Â
Both of you look down at the mess, panting, the obscene sight making your stomach twist in disgust and reluctant satisfaction. âFuck,â you mutter to yourself, a brief hit of clarity slicing through the haze, shame coiling around your throat like a chokehold.Â
A few minutes pass in silence, only the sound of the dying fire flickering across the room, painting shadows across his ruined, flushed face. You gently pull yourself off of him, sitting besides him now, bare as ever. You lean over, grabbing your bra and hoodie.
Then, Josh chuckles. Quiet. Low. Almost thoughtful. His eyes stay fixed on yours as a twisted smile curls up at the corner of his mouth. âMaybe you are,â he says softly, voice raw, trembling with exhausted lust.Â
Your brows furrow, confusion slicing through your afterglow as you reach for your bra, hooking it back around your chest with trembling fingers. âWhat?â
Josh just grins wider at your confusion, tongue darting out to wet his lips, eyes dark and glossy with exhaustion and something sharper. Something almost triumphant. He tucks his cock away slowly, hissing a little at the sensitivity, before leaning forward to grab your shorts from the floor, holding them out to you.
âMaybe you are a fucking weirdo,â he whispers, voice low and hoarse, âfor wanting someone like me.âÂ
You blink, staring at him, feeling your chest tighten with something hot and shameful. He holds your shorts out closer, wiggling them teasingly between his fingers before letting out a quiet, broken laugh.Â
âBut⊠thatâs kinda what makes you so fuckinâ hot, isnât it?â he murmurs. âYou could have any guy here, but⊠here you are.â He shakes his head, a breathy, disbelieving chuckle leaving his lips. âHere you fuckinâ are.âÂ
You snatch your shorts from his hand, cheeks burning. But you notice immediatelyâheâs handed them to you without your panties. You glance at the floor, searching, but he just raises his brows innocently, that twitchy smirk returning as he reaches down to his hoodie pocket, shoving the bunched-up cotton inside.Â
âDonât worry about those,â he mutters, voice smug, self-satisfied. âSouvenir.âÂ
Your mouth falls open slightly, rage and disgust flashing hot through your veins, but he just leans back against the couch, arms spreading lazily along the backrest, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you pull on your shorts, maybe accepting your fate a little too quickly.Â
âThis is a one-time thing,â you bite out, voice trembling with leftover adrenaline.Â
Your hands feel clumsy as you tug your hoodie back over your head, trying to ignore the way his gaze devours the sight of you dressing. He tilts his head at that, studying you with a dark curiosity.Â
âYeah?â he hums, tongue flicking out again to wet his cracked lips. âYou sure about that?âÂ
You glare at him, chest heaving, heart pounding so loud youâre surprised he canât hear it. âDonât push it, Josh.âÂ
For a second, something flickers behind his eyesâsomething almost genuine, raw, stripped of all his usual sleazy bravado. His lips twitch upwards into a broken smile, eyes softening as he watches you adjust your hoodie.Â
âHey,â he says softly, voice barely above a whisper. âI⊠I wonât tell anyone. Ever. You know that, right?âÂ
Your jaw clenches. You donât answer, refusing to give him even that sliver of reassurance he craves.
You just turn away, stepping over empty beer bottles and discarded blankets as you leave him sitting there, panting quietly in the firelit dark, your panties hidden away in his pocket like a trophy.Â
And as you step into the silent hallway, your chest tightens with something sickening and warm, something that makes your skin crawlâ
Because you know heâs right.Â
note: woah first fic alert ! this was supposed to be way shorter, but i decided to commit to the smut. first time writing it, have no idea if it's any good. veryyyy welcome to feedback! i just kind of try to write and emulate my own fav writers yk . anyway. hope u like! also pls lmk if the warnings aren't quite accurate or if i forgot something!
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