Summary: Set in Egypt, in the Early Dynastic Period, this is a past lives story from Pepesplace. Daniel's job is to make his Pharaoh's life better; Daniel loves his work!
Info: With massive thanks to Saladscream for the beta and to Pepe for a quick clarification.
It is cold this morning. The air is chill against my skin and my linen tunic does little to warm me. Even from here, inside the palace, I can smell the river. It is that which cools the air so, making it the most pleasant place to pass a summer afternoon, but this dark morning, I can feel that it is the light tendrils of the water's touch that chill me, even if I cannot see them.
The flames in our hands gutter and spit in the river-heavy air, the breeze of our passing making their gold glow dance wildly and throw bizarre shadows on the stone walls as we walk the empty corridors.
Our feet are quiet when we move into his chamber, the whisper of our clothing the only sound that breaks this heavy stillness. We set our burdens on the table provided for this purpose, and then quickly kneel on the woven mats at his bedside. Falah doesn't move as easily as he once did, particularly on these damp, cool mornings and I cup his elbow to help him down, at which he smiles and makes a face.
Adnaan lifts the tiny metal gong from the folds of his robe, holds it up and gently strikes the leather-covered beater to it, filling the room with its soft, melodic chime.
We prostrate ourselves, our heads bowed to the hard floor.
"We beseech you, Lord, most holy and sacred, the living embodiment of the Father of Gods, make the sun to rise this day that we may serve you."
The words fall easily from my lips; I have been a servant of his bedchamber for some time now - this summer will see my own twenty-eighth year and my eighth summer as a slave of his person. I know how honoured I am to have been pleasing to him for this long - longer than any of the others, longer even than his current vizier.
"Daniel will serve me this day." His voice is quiet, but authoritative, holding none of the hoarseness of sleep.
My heart beats faster, as it does every morning when he speaks my name - some days the wait is unendurable and on occasion he has spoken another name. Those days have been such torment to me that I have no words to describe them. I would never have dared to ask in what way I had displeased him to have him choose another, although it gnaws at my heart without respite. But it has only been on isolated occasions that my life's joy has been denied me, and I have always been invited back the following day. And those days of reconciliation will burn brightly in my memory until the day I join the Gods myself.
I remain with my forehead pressed to the matting and wait for the others to withdraw. Falah, again, is the last to stand and I try to curb my impatient thoughts. My Lord requires my service and I am eager to do for him whatever it is he desires of me. My lips curve into a secret smile in anticipation of what that might be.
The thump of my heart is loud in my ears and I fear that I might miss the sound of his summons. But I hear him soon enough.
"Daniel," he murmurs, and I am undone, as always, at the way he speaks the simple syllables of my name. Even after all these years, he rolls the sounds around his mouth as if it were the first time he had said them.
Nobody else says my name like that. In the deepest part of my soul, I think it is because he loves me as I love him, but to believe such a thought would be heresy - sinful and wicked, and punishable by death. He is a God and I am just a man. He loves us all, provides for us and protects us. He makes the sun rise and the river flood and the crops grow. He is the dawn and the sunset, he is noon and midnight, summer and winter. How could such power and responsibility as that be reflected in the love of just one man?
It is my greatest honour and pleasure beyond telling that I am blessed to care for his physical needs, for this, his human form. And I am grateful every day when he turns his eyes on me, smiles in my direction and touches me with hands that feel as warm and fallible as my own. It is his grace that allows me this joy, for if he looked upon me in all his divinity or touched me with his godly power, I would surely die.
"Command me, Lord," I say.
"Show me the sky, Daniel," he replies and I rise swiftly to my feet to comply.
Now there is only my little lamp left, the shadows in his chamber are even deeper, but I know my way around with my eyes shut. I pull aside the heavy curtain and push open the wooden shutter, and the smell of the Nile comes stronger than ever, dark, damp and life giving.
The coldness that I cursed earlier washes me now with welcome refreshment, cooling my brow and soothing the thrumming heat that fills me whenever I am near to my Lord. I feel the lick of it brush my chest and harden my nipples, and I shiver a little.
The sky is yet dark, the shapes of the cliffs on the horizon only just visible, the difference between black and blacker.
I turn from the window, walk to his bed and part the thin linen of the hangings that surround the dais on which he sleeps. In the feeble light of my single flame, I can see him, resting on the finest white sheets, the furs of his covers kicked carelessly aside. His body shines in the reflected glow, highlighting the smooth tautness of his skin and shadowing the hard planes of his torso. He's erect already, I notice with a thrill of pride, although I'm sure it's misplaced. His cock is thick and long, curving over his belly where he lies sprawled on his back.
I avert my eyes from his body and whisper again, "Command me, Lord."
"A kiss," he says softly, like every morning, and I smile at his simple request.
His eyes are gentle when I lift my gaze to his face to comply with his wishes. There is hunger there and heat, but it is the tenderness that wins out for now.
I climb onto the bed and stoop low to touch my lips to his. He is languid this morning, his arms thrown above his head and his mouth soft as we move slick lips over each other. When his tongue finally, finally swipes at my mouth, I open eagerly, but he is in the mood to tease me, and prolongs my torment, nipping and biting at my open mouthed kisses without possessing.
A sigh escapes me and he draws back with a smile so certain and dark that my cock leaps beneath my clothing.
"My Daniel. So impatient this morning," he murmurs, propping himself up on one elbow.
"I am yours to command, Lord. Your pleasure is my pleasure," I reply breathlessly.
And for that demure response, I get what I wanted. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, tilting my face so he can kiss me deeply. His stubble burns and prickles against my cheeks and chin, such a delicious pain. He plunges his tongue into my mouth with a forcefulness that slams through me, making my cock fill further and my balls tingle and ache.
"Take this off," he demands in a gravelly voice when he rips his mouth from mine. He tugs on my tunic and I hurry to comply before he tears the material again - his impatience has, on occasion, resulted in my needing new clothing.
I kneel beside him now, naked and trembling, watching his body respond to me once again in the strange pink light of the dawn breaking outside the window. The joy and excitement are never missing from this moment when his eyes rake over me and find me worthy.
"Prepare yourself," he growls.
I scramble to the foot of the bed, take the bowl of oil set there on the table for this purpose and dip my fingers into its cool slickness. Sometimes he likes to do this himself, but today is one of the times that he wants to watch me do it.
I lie down on my back and hook my hand behind my knee, lifting and opening, making sure he has a clear view. I bring the other hand between my legs, touching the hungry skin at my entrance.
"Slowly," he commands.
I close my eyes and with a deep breath I press a finger inside, feeling the heat of my body as it aches for his cock. A second finger goes in easily and I twist them and spread them, loosening myself for him.
"More," he whispers and I turn my head and open my eyes to watch him watch me. Like the rays of the sun, that his divinity brings forth each morning in the East, his gaze is as fire on my skin - a warming, living heat.
I slide a third finger inside myself, reaching as far as I can to please him, but knowing that it cannot compare to the feeling when my Lord takes me and pushes inside me.
"Come here," he murmurs finally. I roll to my hands and knees, and crawl up the huge bed toward him.
He lays back into the white sheets and takes my hand in his, twining our fingers together. He draws me closer, guiding me and pulling me until I am straddling him, our cocks clashing, hot and sticky.
With his free hand he palms his erection, positioning it as I lift up to help him, then, when I feel the hot bluntness against my entrance, I sink slowly down.
I was right - there is nothing like this feeling; an instant of pain and then pleasure beyond anything else I know. He is thick, stretching me incrementally as we move together. He is long, filling me, pushing against parts of me deep within that hunger for this every second he is not inside me. He is hard and hot, unrelenting as he forces his way into my body with me as his willing accomplice.
When he is fully sheathed within me, he sighs and runs his fingertips across my chest, finding the hard points of my nipples and scratching them with a sharp thumbnail, making me shudder and clench around him.
He finds my free hand, twining those fingers in a mirror image of the others. Bracing his elbows on the bed, he smiles. "Move, Daniel," he invites smoothly.
I lean into his strong grasp and begin to ride him, moving slowly at first, never sinking all the way down, making my thighs burn and my back sweat.
And then he is pushing up, pressing back up into me as I slide down him, making me moan. I grip his hands harder and redouble my efforts, meeting his thrusts with new strength, making us grunt together when we meet at the deepest point.
He has such stamina and power, his knees at my back and his feet planted firmly, spread wide the better to fuck me. He pushes so hard, I have to brace myself to prevent him from lifting me off the bed altogether.
My cock aches for his touch, my balls burn where they grind against his belly, but his mood to tease is not yet appeased, and he grips my hands hard and spares my poor, solid cock not so much as a glance.
His breathing falters, hitching and holding as we buck together. He fucks me deep, deeper, slowing now his release is almost upon him. He throws his head back into the sheets and grits his teeth, then slams up into me, his back arching, his fingers pinching and his cock pulsing, pulsing, flooding me, scalding me far inside.
He grinds out my name as I feel his last spurt throb within, then he falls back to the bed, panting.
I'm shaking, sweating and so aroused as to be painful. I long to take myself in hand and mark him with my seed; cover his hard belly with my release. The need is almost unbearable. I am consumed by it. Even the slight breeze from the window is sweet torture against my skin.
Suddenly the world tilts, and with a yell he throws me off him, dragging his raw cock from inside me viciously and pinning me to the bed on my back with a forearm across my chest and shoulder.
I have no time to draw breath before he thrusts his fingers deep in my ass, feeling the heat and slickness he has made there. I whine and wantonly spread my legs further, hitching up a knee, so he can press in. He obliges and rubs at me, his fingers rough and blunt, even with the slippery residue of the oil and his semen.
His touch finds that place far inside that makes me gasp. His smile is predatory, feral when I open my eyes and he rubs it again, harder this time. I bear down on his hand, shamelessly begging for his attentions.
He lowers his head to my belly and kisses a path to my cock, timing his next pressure inside with his soft lips taking me in.
I erupt into his mouth, hoarsely mewling as he sucks me through each twitch and pulse of my climax, wringing every single drop from me as if it were his by right. Which of course it is.
I am only dimly aware when he withdraws his hand and lies down beside me on the ruined sheets.
"What you do to me," he whispers in a voice one rarely hears from Pharaoh's mouth. "My Daniel."
And this is when I could almost believe that he were mortal - a man like me; when he smiles so softly and his eyes speak of what I am to him. This is when I dream that we were free to love like this forever, without duty or consequence. "I love you, my Lord," I manage to mumble through lips too tired to speak clearly.
We lie in sated quiet for a while until I open my eyes and see through the window that the molten gold of the sun disc is touching the dark horizon for the first time this day.
He runs his fingers through my hair, revelling in the feel of it. His own hair is cropped short to wear beneath his crown, as much grey as dark in it now.
He's been watching me rest, I can tell by the indulgent curl of his mouth.
"I made the sun rise so I could see it make your hair gold this morning, Daniel," he tells me. "So I could see it touch your skin, the way I touch it. So I could see the sky in your strange, pale eyes once again."
"Thank you, my Lord," I reply, thrilled but terrified by his words. Is it blasphemy if a God says it? He has said such things to me before; beautiful, terrible words that I cherish, kept safe in my soul to be hidden forever and only taken out when loneliness overwhelms, when he cannot take me with him.
And now I must wash him and dress him, feed him fruit, bread and meat, and prepare him for a day of meetings, rituals and decisions. There are emissaries from one of the heretic nations here. His second wife, Tiye, is close to her time and the priests predict another son. My Lord must intercede with Bes to ensure his safe delivery. A payment of tribute from the south waits camped at the edge of the city and my Lord must oversee its disbursement. Many tasks must be completed while the sun rides the heavens this day.
But tonight when the sun sets and his duties are done, to his people, to the gods, to his nation and to his family, he will send for me, and with the cooling night air wrapped about us like the finest black linen, we will talk, and love and laugh until he sleeps again. And I will go back to my room in the servant's quarters and rest until the stars dim and it is time for him to bring the sun again.
I get up and fetch the basin of bright, beaten metal, filled with clear water. Dipping a cloth into the scented liquid, I smile at him. I wring out the snowy material and begin to wash him with long, slow sweeps of my hand. He stretches out and his cock gives an interested twitch as I wash his belly.
"Daniel," he smiles, his eyes bright in the first of the rays of sunlight to penetrate his chamber.
"Command me, Lord," I say, curiously.
"A kiss," he whispers.