Work Text:
Pleasure was a weird, inscrutable thing.
It was something both humans and gods experienced, yes. There were songs and poems and, well, prayers dedicated to it, but somehow that didn’t make the thing itself any clearer.
Now, it wasn’t that Seth had no idea what he liked. He knew he liked the feeling of sand taking shape under his command. He liked the weight of many weapons he’d mastered in his hands. He liked the rays of the setting sun on his face, and the way they would paint the desert red.
Those were uncomplicated, natural things that just... were there. If some lunatic decided to ask him exactly when he’d taken a liking to them, he would probably tip his head back in laughter and say he was born that way.
His pleasure in bed, however, was a whole different matter.
Before Horus, everything had been very simple. He didn’t have to think about it with Nephtys. He couldn’t think about it with Osiris. The rest of his… experiences had not a single thing to do with pleasure.
With Horus, however? He was actively encouraged to think about what he would prefer—so actively, in fact, that it made him feel embarrassed and annoyed in equal measure.
Maybe the thing at play was the remnants of guilt Horus carried somewhere under his skin. Maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe even both—Seth wouldn’t be too surprised if that somehow made sense in the boy’s head.
In any case, it made things complicated.
It had taken Seth quite a while to accept the fact that being in the same bed as Horus wasn’t without its upsides. He still wasn’t very keen on sleep, but when he did feel like having a nap, Horus made for a decent pillow. On those occasions Seth would wake up to the steady beating of the boy’s heart against his temple, and while it was loud enough to drag him out of his slumber, it was weirdly… grounding.
They probably should have stopped there. Horus would’ve sulked and sighed when he thought Seth wasn’t looking, but he wouldn’t have crossed the line in the sand if Seth had had enough presence of mind to actually draw one.
Thinking back, it was hard to say whatever had made him nuzzle the boy’s pectoral one of those nap times instead. It had been a little like pressing his face against polished, sun-kissed stone; maybe he’d been after that particular sensation and nothing else.
But whatever the reason, it had created an opening, and now he was dealing with what had made its way through it.
It was clear as day what Horus wanted from him. And if hit with a truth spell, Seth wouldn’t be able to say he was as against it as he’d once been.
For starters, the boy was shaped nicely, what with those strong arms and thighs like temple pillars. His lips were pretty too, both pouting and curled up in a smirk that did something funny to Seth’s stomach. It was similar to that feeling he would get after a meal that wasn’t just a couple leaves of lettuce, but it wasn’t as unpleasant. In fact, it wasn’t unpleasant at all.
Having those lips occasionally pressed against the crown of his head, or his temple, or even the jut of his cheekbone was—well, nice. Sometimes it had that old remind-me-who’s-the-nephew-here ring to it, and those were the times when Seth would get fussy and deliberately unpleasant. But all in all he wouldn’t have complained too much if Horus’ lips had found some other spot on his body to press against.
However, the boy downright refused to up his game a notch without Seth clearly telling him his pleasure first. Therefore, a stalemate.
“You’re never gonna have it if you keep this up,” Seth told him one night, Horus’ head nestled in his lap and his fingers carding through that wing feather-like hair.
At the time, it had been something of a revelation to find out that the boy enjoyed being petted like this. But it’d seemed harmless, so Seth had decided he would allow it, and then it became a sort of a routine.
Horus shifted a bit and turned his head so that he could look up at Seth from his perch.
“I’m not having it, then,” he said with such a solemn finality that Seth felt an urge to pinch his cheeks. Hard. “I’ve already told you, uncle. I’m not doing anything unless—”
“I tell you what it is that I want, yes, you’ve been annoyingly clear on the matter,” he snapped, flicking at one of those short, coarse locks for good measure. “I don’t know, maybe we should ask Sekhmet for help.”
Horus’ lips pressed into a hard line; a disgruntled huff followed soon after. “Don’t joke like that.”
“Who says I’m joking?” Seth exclaimed with an air of benevolence done wrong. “She’s incredibly good at motivation, you can’t deny that.”
“I have all the motivation that I need,” Horus replied, a stubborn edge to his voice. “And the only help I will accept is yours.”
Unfortunately, Seth had nothing to counter that with, so he remained silent. His hand resumed moving through Horus’ hair, though.
It was a fool’s errand, what they were trying to pull off. He wanted too much and too little all at once, and it barely had anything to do with bedchamber activities. What little overlap there was, he wouldn’t be able to put into words.
He didn’t want pain. He didn’t want to be stripped of his body’s strength and his willpower alike. He didn’t want to be reduced to the role of soil unable to do anything other than accept the rain falling down on it. “My desert. My sand.”
He didn’t want any of it.
“Say my name,” he heard himself speak, barely louder than a rasp.
Horus’ eyes that had fluttered shut at some point snapped open again; twin pieces of lapis lazuli staring at Seth in alarm. “What?”
“My name, boy,” he repeated, his voice regaining some of its volume and firmness. “Say it.”
There was a pause, taut like a drawn bowstring. Stretching, stretching, and stretching until—
“Seth,” an exhalation of a sound, soft as down. Then, urgently, as though catching fire, “Seth. Seth.”
Having fallen from those supple lips, it didn’t sink into his skin like thorns on a vine. Didn’t scrape. Didn’t hurt.
Instead, it was not unlike a gust of hot wind that knew exactly whom it was touching and was clever enough to show its reverence without being obtrusive.
That… that was nice. Safe. Maybe even worthy of a small reward, all things considered.
He let his other hand cup Horus’ cheek, and brushed the pad of his thumb across the boy’s bottom lip. It was warm and a little chapped to the touch.
“Since this mouth of yours is so clever,” he said then, “why don’t you put it to better use?”
Starstruck as Horus looked, he didn’t fall for it as easily as Seth had hoped.
“Tell me what’s better for you,” the boy replied, holding himself very still, “and I’ll be right where you want me.”
Seth might have inquired as to where and when the son of Isis had learned to talk like that if it hadn’t been for the truth of it suddenly sinking in.
He wanted Horus.
He wanted, and it had nothing to do with flowers or thorns or whatever.
“Kiss me?” he said, and that was all it took.
It was a little like drinking Shu’s air from the boy’s lips back then, something bigger and more powerful than both of them combined lacing every brush and every wet slide. Experimenting, he nipped at Horus’ plush bottom lip, a promise of drawing blood, and earned himself a broken half-moan and those wonderfully large hands twitching on the back of his neck.
“So much for nagging me to behave while you like it rough,” Seth muttered against the corner of Horus’ mouth, still experimenting, still feeling out his own limits. It was weirder than anything he’d known so far.
“I like it when it’s you,” Horus countered, achingly earnest. “And if there’s a blood price for that, I’m quite ready to pay it.”
“Who needs you weak from blood loss,” he scoffed softly. It took him another couple heartbeats to realize just how much of his own truth he’d lain at Horus’ feet by doing so.
If Horus was shocked by it, he didn’t let it show.
“I’m keeping my blood on the inside of my skin, then,” the boy said instead, and kissed him again.
He wouldn’t be able to say how much time had passed before he found himself straddling Horus’ lap, face to face. He felt lighter than before—the gold of his necklace and bracelets was no longer weighing him down. Judging by where it lay on the bed in a careless heap, he’d taken it off himself.
Now, he was no stranger to control—one couldn’t possibly be that and the god of war at the same time. And yet this, this particular species of control was something he’d hardly experienced before.
Horus was the force pushing this chariot of an endeavor forward, but Seth was the one holding the reins.
“Strip,” he breathed out when the fabric of their shendyts became too much of a hindrance. He couldn’t say how he managed not to sway on his feet as he rose to do the same.
Undoing the ties while feeling in his bones that there was no force in existence capable of making Horus look away even for a split moment… Somehow it brought back a memory of Maat’s trial. He couldn’t imagine the objects to be placed onto the scales for this kind of trial, though.
The fabric whispered down his legs and pooled at his feet.
A part of him expected some blatant, self-serving praise in response to his unveiling, but none came. What he got instead was wide-eyed, silent awe, so thick he could slice it with his khopesh if he wanted.
It was more than he could handle easily, so he decided to act his usual unpleasant self.
“This will split me in half like a pomegranate,” he said, eyes trained on where Horus was already naked, hard and flushed. Beautiful, to tell the truth. “Not to say I’ve never been there before, but—”
“You don’t have to go there ever again,” Horus interrupted, his voice hoarse with arousal, but firm. Then, a softer, placating note slipping in, “You don’t have to.”
“No?” he pressed, forcing his gaze to travel north, meet Horus’, and hold it. “How are you planning to have a taste of me, then?”
Suddenly, that damned smirk blossomed on the boys’ lips; handsome, confident.
“I could drink you like nectar if you wanted me to.”
Heat rushed through Seth’s body in a wave, no doubt spilling red on his cheeks.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he demanded after a beat of silence. He couldn’t care less about Isis, but he definitely was going to find out where that debauchery had come from later.
The smirk widened. “No, not anymore. Now it belongs to you and you alone.”
That, of all things, rang a bell, although in a weird, mirrored way. He knew possessiveness, knew its thorny, vise-like grip on him, tearing his skin and crushing his bones; mine or no one else’s.
The thing that Horus was giving voice to was just as crushing, but in reverse. The boy didn’t compel, didn’t stake his claim—he offered. Yours or no one else’s.
A gift like no other. A god like no other.
A boy in love.
Seth crossed that a-step-and-a-half distance between them and perched on the edge of the bed before he could think better of it.
“Show me, then,” he said, a sort of strain to his voice. “Show me what I now have all to myself.”
Horus’ tongue brushed his lips, licking the smirk away. There was a dust of red on his cheeks that hadn’t been there just a moment ago, Seth noticed.
“I—yes. Yes.”
For all Horus’ way with words earlier, nothing could have prepared Seth for the picture the boy painted once he settled, cross-legged, on the floor before him. Horus’ hands, so dark against the milk of Seth’s skin, cupped his ankles and traveled up until they reached his thighs. There, they stopped.
“Open them for me?” Horus said, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the supple flesh. Still an invitation, a plea, not a demand.
Seth inhaled, exhaled, and then did exactly what he was suggested to.
A low, breathy thank you caressed the skin of his inner thigh as Horus leaned in, bowing his head, and then—
It was like a splash of liquid fire, the open-mouthed kiss Horus lay on the underside of his cock. He felt it twitch, which was promptly rewarded with another kiss, a bit higher this time, and then another one, and—
“Ah!”
The boy’s mouth wasn’t simply clever. Sheathing Seth’s cock, tongue swirling slowly around its head, it was wicked.
A string of whimpers reached Seth’s ears; ragged, pitiful noises. It took him a while to realize he was the one making them.
He was given a brief reprieve from the onslaught of sensation after that, and then another kiss, barely more than a reverent brush of lips.
“Feeling alright?” Horus asked, glancing up at him, and Seth felt dazed enough to wonder if this couldn’t actually kill a god.
He nodded, not trusting his voice. The boy shot him a soft, reassuring smile in return.
“Mind if I move you a little?” Horus continued, his hands sliding underneath Seth’s thighs as though to hint at what he had in mind.
This time, Seth shook his head.
A raised eyebrow, a bird-like tilt of the head. “As in stop, or as in keep going?”
“Do it,” he managed, and oh, did he sound wrecked already.
More red spread across Horus’ cheeks, causing Seth’s heart to crash against his ribs at yet another thing dawning on him.
He loves this. He really does.
Horus rearranged himself somewhat, and the next thing Seth knew, his legs were draped over the boy’s shoulders. Like they were meant to rest there all along. Like it was the only place for them to be.
“Alright?” A soft murmur, followed by kisses to the inside of Seth’s knees—one, and then the other.
“Y-yes.”
Positioned like that, it was tempting to let his back hit the bedding. There was hardly anything to gain from resisting that temptation, Seth decided—and gave in.
The scent of body oil and incense flooded him, rising from the disturbed sheets. The boy hardly smelled like anything on his own, but Seth had come to associate this scent with him at some point. Being enveloped by it while having Horus’ head between his legs felt like… Like being a grain of sand captured in the palm of one’s hand.
No, not captured, Seth corrected himself as that liquid fire resumed licking at him. Held. Cradled.
Humans worshiped gods with prayers and sacrifices. Horus was no human, and got to choose his own way.
Seth’s unraveling came suddenly, like a temple collapsing down on him out of nowhere. He probably should have given some kind of warning, but he was already arching off the bed, a cry lodged in his throat, when he realized what was happening to him.
Horus cradled him through it too.
“So, what’s your verdict?” the boy asked what felt like eons later, grinning like a lovestruck fool he was. Tragically, it was a pretty sight.
“Felt like a sandstorm trapped in a human body,” Seth replied, propping himself up on his elbows and then his hands. With melted honey seeming to flow through his veins instead of blood, it wasn’t easy. “That is to say, not half bad.”
Hearing that, Horus beamed at him. “Good.”
It would be nice to flop back down and just rest in a careless tumble of limbs, but as Seth swept his eyes down Horus’ body, he knew it wasn’t time for that yet.
“What about you?” he prompted, not quite able to look away once his gaze caught at the glistening tip of Horus’ cock. “You don’t look very satisfied to me.”
The boy made an abrupt, startled noise of someone caught red-handed. “But I am! I mean, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not going to,” Seth shot back as an idea formed in his mind and took root. Quickly. “I want to watch.”
He saw the exact moment his meaning sank in, the lapis lazuli of Horus’ eyes glazing over. It felt like sand bending to his will, the weight of khopesh in his hand, and the crimson of the desert at sunset all at once.
Contrary to his expectations, Horus didn’t close his eyes as he took himself in hand.
“Do you really have no shame?” Seth wondered, suddenly torn between watching and holding that heated gaze. In truth, there was nothing particularly wrong with what Horus had going, but if Seth were in his place… No, that was not happening, ever.
“Not when it comes to you.”
And there it was.
Seth could hardly understand it, that urge to expose oneself like that, to give away everything and then some, but being on the receiving end of it… It was more exhilarating than he could have ever imagined.
One hell of responsibility, too.
“I see. Go on, then,” he said, his voice softening a fraction. Judging by how Horus’ lips parted around a rushed exhale, he hit the spot with that.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take the boy long to finish himself off. It was a messy affair, pearly drops clinging to the bronze skin of his stomach and chest, and he did nothing to try and rectify that.
It might be the most beautiful thing Seth had ever seen.
He was on his feet and then on the floor, facing Horus, before he knew it.
The boy opened up at the first brush of Seth’s lips against his own. He tasted nothing like nectar, but it didn’t matter in the slightest.
“I do wonder,” Seth muttered much later, his head resting on Horus’ chest as they lounged in bed, “where someone like you could have possibly learned to talk like that.”
There was a pause, only interrupted with several irregular heartbeats against Seth’s temple.
“Well,” the boy said at length, uncharacteristically sheepish. “Some of your worshippers are known to be very creative when they invoke your name for their love charms.”
“So you borrowed from them?” he asked, amused rather than displeased. Love charms, huh.
“No, but it got me thinking,” Horus replied, clearly relieved. Then, cheekily, “If they could do something like that, I could do it better.”
Laughter bubbled in Seth’s chest, but he felt too sated and lazy to let all of it out. So instead he just nuzzled the muscle underneath his cheek, and was pleased to feel Horus’ fingers tangle in his hair.
“Keep trying, boy,” he said then, the final truth of the night. “Patience, persistence, and all that.”