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Atem was hiding. Not very noble of the heir to the throne, perhaps. And not quite so endearing or forgivable as when he was a child, or even a teenager, slipping away from lessons and duties to hide with Mana. He doesn’t remember what he was even hiding from, back then. His father was strong and hale, he had dear friends, and plenty of leisure for games.
He still has dear friends, at least. Even if they all strain under a heavier burden of duty with every passing year.
He’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the footsteps - quiet, but a long stride he would recognise if he wasn’t so preoccupied - until the heavy curtain sweeps aside and he lets slip a rather undignified sound of protest at the sudden glare of the light.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“That is not a very respectful way to address me,” Atem retorts in a whisper, letting his head fall back against the wall to glare up at his challenger.
“... What the hell are you doing, my esteemed Prince?” Set asks in exactly the same tone of voice.
“I’m… considering tactics,” Atem whispers imperiously.
“You’re hiding,” Set corrects him, dry and curt. But then he steps right into Atem’s space and pulls the curtain behind him. His voice is no less curt, but he drops to a matching whisper as he continues. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m often alone,” Atem answers absently, watching with wide eyes as Set sets his headdress and staff aside and sinks down. There’s no space here at all, Set’s knee comes down between Atem’s legs, his hand braced on the wall by Atem’s head. “Some would say a king is always alone. Without a peer, by definition.”
“You’re not king yet,” Set reminds him.
They both know it will be soon. Atem’s father slips further away every day.
“And even when you become so,” Set whispers firmly … and he sinks his long hand into Atem’s thick, textured hair, drawing a soft gasp from those plump lips. “You may be a god upon the Earth, Atem, but I will match you, every step, every challenge, every battle, every game. I will be your peer, even if I have to claw my way to godhood myself to do it.”
Atem gazes up at him, into those fiery blue eyes. It’s patently ridiculous. But he believes him.
If anyone could topple the gods themselves just to keep Atem from feeling alone, it’s Set. His companion, his rival, his love.
“If you claim to be a match for a king, for a very god, then you must be a match for a king’s burden,” Atem whispers, a grin starting to break on his face. “Eclipse mine, Set. Outshine the sun for me, just for a moment.”
“Gladly,” Set growls in answer.
And he drags Atem up by the hair to close the gap between them and kiss him, his other hand sliding fearlessly up Atem’s softly-muscled thigh, under his fine shendyt, his hand cool in comparison to Atem’s warm skin, making him shiver helplessly, groaning into the kiss.
“Hush,” Set breathes against his lips. “You’re hiding, remember? Don’t make a sound.”
And he grasps Atem’s cock in his cool hand.
“Ah! Set!” Atem gasps.
“I told you to hush, princeling,” Set hisses, slowly beginning to stroke . “Bad enough to be caught hiding, but to be caught with your legs splayed under your own Priest?” He tuts. “You’ll cause a scandal… ”
“Mmh…!”
Atem bites his lip as Set teases him, grabbing at Set’s fine robe, trying to drag him back into a kiss, but Set doesn’t allow it, leaning just close enough for his breath to play against Atem’s lips and cheek, his fist in Atem’s hair keeping him from closing the gap.
“You need to surrender… ” Set whispers, and Atem shakes his head stubbornly. “You do . And I’m the only one who can make you.”
He’s teasing Atem in earnest now, peppering light kisses down his throat as he strokes his cock maddeningly slowly, and Atem lets his head fall back, his hands clenching to fists on Set’s shoulders, his hips twitching needily for more…
Set eases his hand from Atem’s hair, letting his nails scrape against Atem’s soft skin as he trails his hand down to his bare chest, leaving shivering trails in its wake.
“Now…” Set purrs softly. “Remember to stay quiet… ”
And his long, clever fingers find Atem’s sensitive nipple. Atem arches into even that bare touch, his body already flushed with arousal and need, and his lips part.
Set knows exactly how to torture him, exactly where to stroke and where to pinch, how to quicken and how to slow, when to hold back and when to ruin him… He plays Atem’s body as he plays games of strategy, ferociously, with skill, aiming to overpower. And Atem struggles , gasping and grasping, but he’s fighting himself, fighting to lose himself to this…
Set draws Atem right to the point of climax, and eases off, letting Atem rock his hips helplessly to thrust into Set’s loose grip. He wants more, he needs more… and he can’t demand it, can’t take it. He’s at Set’s mercy. It’s not his decision anymore.
It’s not his decision. All he has to do… his only role... his only obligation… is to…
“Ahh…!” Atem sighs, in helpless, heady, blissful surrender.
“Good…” Set breathes, praising.
And his mouth closes on Atem’s pert nipple, his fingers pinching and rolling its twin, his firm, skilled hand tightening its grip on Atem’s hot, hard cock, and Atem cries out as Set makes him spill, hard.
Strong arms… his own heartbeat… warm, close air…
Set’s lips… and tongue…
Hands tangling in hair, in linen… legs splayed… a breathless hitch of blissful laughter… Set’s heartbeat in his broad chest against Atem’s ear…
His shendyt and thighs are slick and damp, his jewellery askew, his hair a little damp with sweat. But he couldn’t care one iota less.