The Most Loved of All

by Tinnean

  Edward Cramdon and I were alone in the tomb—I wasn’t pleased when he followed after me, but he was the expert, and I had no say in the matter. Having the width of the tomb separating us was my idea, and if he’d taken a single step toward me, I’d have struck him again. He had tried to interest me early on in whiling away the hot afternoon hours in his bed—since Charlie and I weren’t sharing a tent, he was under the erroneous belief I was unattached. When he refused to take my polite refusal seriously, persisting in trying to touch or kiss me, I knocked him on his arse. He kept his distance after that, but I was still wary of him.

  “Interesting,” he murmured now, regarding the chain, and he reached out to pick it up. The delicate links caught on the linen, and it was as if it tried to cling to the body it had once belonged to. He gave an impatient tug, and the linen tore. I’d have thought it was most likely due to its age, but he frowned and said, “The wrapping of every mummy I’ve come across has disintegrated or rotted to rags eons ago. This, though…” He shook his head, dropped the belt—somehow I knew it was worn low around the hips—and walked back to the entry to the burial chamber. He scowled at the hieroglyphs etched into the stone above it. “Teremun? I’ve never heard of him. Probably some merchant or craftsman or minor nobility.”

  “With such an adorned coffin?”

  “Anyone with a handful of jewels could consider himself a prince,” he scoffed. “Although…” He became pensive.

  “Although what?”

  “That image on the rear wall. It’s Anubis, god of the dead.”

  “I thought you said Osiris was god of the dead.”

  Cramdon would often insist on spending the evenings “entertaining” us with tales of the Egyptian gods. I’d have preferred to spend the time in bed with Charlie, but that wasn’t an option.

  Cramdon waved aside my observation. “After Osiris became god of the dead, Anubis was relegated to the task of ferrying souls to the afterlife, as well as overseeing the mummification process.”

  I walked up to the wall and studied the image, powerfully muscled, with a jackal’s head. I could swear the god’s golden eyes gazed down on me, and I backed away hastily, reluctant to turn my back on the god.

  Only when the length of the chamber was between us did I turn to see what Cramdon, who had fallen silent, was doing.

  He had withdrawn a knife and was trying to pry off a sapphire the size of my fist from the sarcophagus. The tip of his knife broke, and he swore, then snatched up the silver belt.

  “Is that a good idea?”

  Cramdon gave an affronted huff. “I’m not going to keep this. I plan to show it to Mr Carter.”

  “That wasn’t what I…”

  He strode through the doorway, and I followed him out of the tomb, shaking my head.

  “Roddy.” Charlie called to me, and I paused.

  Cramdon curled a lip at my love, then strode past, hurrying on to the tent where Mr Carter and Lord Carnarvon had their field office.

  I used the ends of the bandanna I’d tied around my throat to mop at the sweat that rolled down past my cheekbones. I started to tell Charlie what Cramdon and I had found in the tomb we’d just left. Cramdon wasn’t the only one who dismissed the importance of that particular tomb. For obvious reasons, neither Mr Carter nor Lord Carnarvon had seemed interested in excavating and exploring it rather than continuing the search for the Boy King’s final resting place.

  Even the few men remaining seemed reluctant to enter the tomb, but while something about it intrigued me, I hadn’t had the opportunity to take Charlie aside and talk with him about it.

  “What is it, Charlie?”

  “I want you to go back to Cairo,” he said abruptly.

  “What? No!”

  “You’re looking very tired. I think you need a break from this place.” He cut off my automatic protest. “Howard and I have been discussing this with Lord Carnarvon, and we desperately need men to replace the ones who’ve run away. You’ve always been a good judge of character and would be perfect to select the men. Will you do this for me?”

  “But it’s so far.” It had taken Charlie and me about three weeks on horseback to reach the Valley of the Kings, where camp had already been set up.

  “It will take you a couple of months.” He saw how appalled I looked and patted my shoulder. “Three weeks there, two to find the men we’ll need, and three weeks back.”

  “Will you come with me, Charlie? Our anniversary is in a few weeks.” We’d lost track of time as we boated down the Ruzizi, and I’d selected October 31 at random as the date we’d married each other. “We could have some time alone together. Please come with me.” I couldn’t help how desperate I sounded. He seemed to be drifting further and further from me. I’d expected him to share my tent, but instead he’d refused to come to my bed, even for a cuddle. And he coughed more and more.

  “No, I can’t come this time, little Rev. Howard needs me here.” He lowered his voice. “But I promise you a second honeymoon as soon as this dig is finished.”

  I was uneasy at the thought of leaving him behind, but God help me, I jumped at the opportunity to get away from that place.

  So the plan was put into effect. I would have a guide, and we would each take two horses and a donkey when we left for Cairo the next morning.

  But there was still that night to be gotten through…

  Chapter 4

  I missed Khentemsemet. There had been times, due to the high priest’s duties, that we were apart for long periods. Not to say I didn’t have duties as well, and I worked diligently at them. But my body yearned for his.

  Each time Khentemsemet made love to me, I became more enthralled with him, and I waited impatiently for him to come to my bed.

  Shortly after the first time he had made love to me, he’d said we had to conceal our love—I was the Pharaoh’s brother, and although Khentemsemet was the high priest, people would sneer at him.

  “They would see me loving you as an excuse for me to rise up in the world,” he said, his tone mournful.

  “That’s nonsense,” I declared hotly.

  “That’s kind of you, Prince, and so like you to see it that way, but my reputation would be in ruins.”

  I hated that thought, but I hated the sadness on his face even more, so I agreed to treat him as nothing more than an acquaintance, but it was difficult, and there would be those long stretches when we were apart. After all, as high priest, he had to visit the temples throughout the kingdom to make sure they were being cared for and our god worshipped in the proper manner.

  “Take me with you,” I begged.

  “I cannot.” He ran his hand over my hair and offered me a goblet of wine, which I gulped down greedily. “However, I have something for you to play with.”

  “I don’t need a toy.” I set aside the goblet. “I’m not a child.”

  “No, you’re not a child. However, this isn’t precisely a toy.”

  “Then what, my lord?” I blinked and swayed. I had imbibed the wine too quickly.

  He presented me a pair of phalli, one ivory and the other onyx, and a fragrant ointment. “Use the ointment to ease the ivory phallus’s way into you, and think of me when you do so.”

  “I’d rather it was you.”

  “As do I.”

  “And what of the onyx one?” It was a good deal larger than the ivory one.

  “Ah. You must work up to that, impatient one. That one will be for when I return. Trust me. Our time apart will be over before we know it.”

  My cock hardened and my sphincter clenched. “Oh, yes.”

  We had a final meal together, and I hoped afterward we might dally, but after a last sip of wine—he wasn’t one for sweets and so declined the date cake—he cupped my cheek, ran his thumb over my lips, and left.

  That night I used the ivory phallus, which was a good size. I sighed. It just wasn’t as large as Khentemsemet’s member. And while it helped for a time, by the next evening, I was desperate to have his f
lesh and blood cock in my back passage rather than an artificial one. So I slicked up my passage, lay on my back, worked the phallus in and out of my body, and wondered what the huge onyx phallus would feel like.

  However, for that one, I would wait as he suggested.

  Two months passed in this fashion, and I’d resigned myself to another less-than-satisfactory evening once again, when Khentemsemet appeared.

  “My lord!” I was too well trained to throw myself into his arms, but oh, I wanted to. “May I offer you wine?”

  He studied me broodingly. “Do you wish to please me, Teremun?”

  “Of course.”

  “Splendid. And you’ll do all I ask of you?”

  “You have but to ask.”

  “And if I say we shall play a game?”

  “A game, lord? I’m not a child,” I informed him once again.

  “I’m well aware of that. I intend to bring another to our bed.”

  “But—”

  “And you will agree to it because you belong to me, because you’re curious, and because I ask it of you.”

  I did belong to him, body and soul. And truth to tell, I was curious. I smiled at him. “Yes.”

  He smiled back, his eyes glinting with approval. “Retire to your bedchamber.”

  I hurried to obey him. What would it be like to take another man into my body? I’d only had Khentemsemet. Or perhaps I would get to put my cock into someone. I’d never thought of that before, and I found the idea arousing.

  I stripped off my kilt and was about to prepare my back passage for what was to come when the high priest entered.

  “Not that. I have an ointment I brought you. But first, put on the silver chain I had crafted for you.” He was so kind, gave me so many things.

  I took the links from the lapis box I kept in a chest and fastened it low on my hips.

  “Excellent.” He placed a ring around my cock and secured it to the chain. “Now, kneel up on the bed.”

  I did as he bid, folded my arms, and rested my cheek on my forearm.

  “Excellent,” Khentemsemet murmured again. He reached under me and stroked my cock, chuckling when he found me already oozing the clear fluid that indicated my arousal.

  “I’ve missed you, lord.”

  He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he released my cock. After a moment, I felt his slicked finger trailing from my testicles to my opening, and I shivered. He drove his finger into me, removed it—

  “Please, my lord—”

  “Hush. I’m just gathering more ointment.”

  “Mmm. It feels delightful.”

  “Your delight pleases me.” He inserted two fingers this time, pressing them all the way in. Then he twisted his fingers as if to coat the walls of my channel, and in doing so crossed the sweet spot within me. I moaned and thrust back against his fingers. He stroked my buttocks, then repeated this two more times.

  The ointment had started as a cool pleasure, but by the time he withdrew his teasing fingers, an itch had begun.

  “Lord?”

  “You said you would do whatever I asked of you,” he reminded me.

  “Y-yes.” I couldn’t prevent myself from wriggling my buttocks in a vain attempt to ease the feeling that was starting to drive me wild. “Please, my lord. Ride me.”

  “You need it, don’t you, my pretty princeling?”

  “Desperately.”

  “Then you shall have it.” But he stepped away and snapped his fingers. “Now, we’re going to play.”

  * * * *

  I wasn’t certain how many men I’d had by the end of the night. Khentemsemet watched and praised, and occasionally teased my mouth with his cock. Finally, the maddening itch was soothed.

  He released the cock ring and stroked me to completion.

  “Thank you, lord.”

  “Perhaps we’ll do this again.”

  I yawned. “If that is your wish.”

  “You’re coming along very well.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Nothing, princeling.” Once again he snapped his fingers, and a slave brought a basin of warm water and a cloth, and began to clean me off.

  I was sound asleep before he was done…

  Chapter 5

  “I don’t like the thought of being away from you, Charlie. You know this will be the first time since 1914 that we were apart.” The dream of the night before, although I couldn’t remember it, left me feeling used and ashamed, but I didn’t want him worrying about my state of mind. Restlessly, I stood. “Perhaps Mr Cramdon would be a better choice to make the trip to Cairo.”

  “Howard needs Edward here in camp. You’ll be back before you know it.” He got to his feet, glanced around, and when he saw we were alone, he kissed my cheek, then ran his hand over my buttocks. I jerked away from his touch, and he looked hurt.

  “I’m sorry, love. I…had a bad night. Take care of yourself, please. I worry about you.”

  “I worry about you, too, Roddy. Take this.” He handed me a purse that clinked with the sound of coins. “Howard says you’ll need to buy wagons to get the men back here.”

  “All right.”

  “And supplies also.” He held out a sheet of paper listing everything we’d need.

  I tucked the paper in my pocket and leaned forward to kiss his mouth, but he turned his head away.

  “Haven’t brushed my teeth yet this morning,” he offered half-heartedly.

  Was he…was he ashamed to be seen kissing me? I tried to give him a cheery smile, but it was all I could do to prevent myself from weeping. How long had it been since he had kissed me?

  I was afraid I knew—since long before we’d come to the Valley of the Kings. Was he ashamed of me? Did he regret marrying me?

  I walked stiffly to where Hubini, my little Arabian mare was waiting, along with Rashid, the guide who would see me back to Cairo, the spare horses we’d both require, and the donkey that would carry our supplies. I mounted the mare and flinched as my arse came into contact with the saddle. My insides felt as if something had been inserted into me, and while I was certain this sensation might be something my dream self had enjoyed, might possibly have found arousing, I only felt ashamed.

  “Godspeed, little Rev.” Charlie had come after me. He rested his palm on my knee. “Stay safe, and remember I taught you how to take care of yourself.” He sounded wistful, but was he? He was backlit by the sun, and I couldn’t see the expression on his face or in his eyes.

  “I will, Charlie. Goodbye. Stay well.”

  He nodded and stepped back. Perhaps this separation was what we needed. Perhaps once I returned, things would be back to normal.

  Somehow, I wasn’t certain if they ever would be.

  I touched my heels to the mare’s sides and followed Rashid as he headed for the road to Cairo.

  * * * *

  The further we got from that desolate spot, the more the ache that filled my arse eased, until, by the time we had been on the road for a week, it was just a vague, nagging reminder of a vague, nagging dream.

  I pushed the horses and Rashid, and we arrived in Cairo in twelve days. The guide knew where to find men who would be willing to return to the desert with us, and he brought them to the hotel where I’d taken a room. They seemed like good men, hard workers, and I hired them.

  I recalled what Charlie had said, and I told Rashid, “We’ll need wagons.”

  “I know where we can get some that won’t fall apart at the first harsh wind.”

  “And horses?”

  “Mules, lord.”

  I shivered at being referred to in that manner, but nodded. “As you say.”

  “I’ll obtain those as well.”

  “Very good. While you’re seeing to that, I’ll purchase supplies. When will we leave?”

  “If all goes well, in two days’ time.”

  “That soon? Excellent.” We wouldn’t be able to return as quickly to the Valley of the Kings, but perhaps we’d manage to shave at least fo
ur weeks off our travel time. I offered Rashid a good portion of the coins from the purse Charlie had given me.

  He grinned at me, accepted the money, and gave a low bow.

  I was pleased with how quickly things had fallen into step, and I decided to treat myself. The night before our scheduled departure, I went to a local pub and ordered a pint.

  “I say, old chap, don’t I know you?”

  I turned to find myself addressed by an Englishmen a few years older than myself. About my height, with almost white-blond hair, he wore a black patch over his right eye. A scar marred the handsome symmetry of his face.

  “I don’t think…” I hesitated, as something in his remaining tourmaline eye reminded me of days long past. “Captain Fortescue-Smythe? Good God, is that you?”

  “Roddy Sayer!” he exclaimed. “I thought I recognized you. How are you doing?”

  “Well, thanks,” I lied politely. “And you? How are you?” I was reluctant to bring up his missing eye.

  He sighed. “Not too shabby, old sod. Lost the eye back in ‘14. Run in with the Hun, don’t you know, shortly after we parted ways at Lake Tanganyika. I had to sell out. The Mater thought I should come home, had a deb picked out for me and everything, eh what? Of course the little filly took one look at my phiz and ran screaming into the night.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at his tone of voice. Expatriates Charlie and I had run across in Nairobi had used it toward us, making their disdain obvious. Not that Tommy appeared disdainful. He’d just never struck me as being so…so featherbrained. “What a little fool,” I hurried to say. “You’re the best of good fellows, and I always regretted not having the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

  “Is that so?” His smile became charmingly lascivious. “We could always remedy that now, old boy.”

  I started as I felt a burn as if someone had shoved his prick up my arse. Or an ivory phallus? I laughed uneasily and shook my head. “Sorry, Captain. I’m still with Charlie. Although I thank you for the offer.” The sensation faded, and I dismissed it.