Author's note: This chapter technically does not explicitly depict any sexual content, but there is much that is strongly implied. There's a lot of same-sex kissing and hugging, as well as heavily suggestive themes. It also includes some intellectual discussion about... um... intimate same-sex romantic relations between consenting adults with a wide age gap and who are blood-related to each other.
While there is some plot-relevant stuff in this chapter, it's mostly just character development and world-building. I can summarize it later if need be. So if this kind of content really isn't tolerable to you, you can skip this chapter.
The ancient Egyptian gods wouldn't exactly have all that many options for lovers who could stand at their own level. The power differential would be much smaller than it would be for a god taking a mortal human as a lover, because a mortal human would be too scared of divine retribution to say no. Therefore romantic relations between gods and mortals would be strongly discouraged.
And since there are so few Egyptian gods to begin with, sometimes their only alternative for physical and romantic intimacy is to have such relations with their siblings or parents. None of them are children, all of them are at least hundreds if not thousands of years old.
They could in theory have such relations with gods from other nations' pantheons, but they are often at war with those foreign gods. The idea of romance between the Egyptian war god Horus and Teshub (the Hittite god of storms) would have been seen as far worse than a romance between Horus and his Uncle Set (the Egyptian god of storms). And both Horus and Set would have agreed about that.
Or at least that's my take on all this. But I suspect the real life ancient Egyptians would have agreed with my take.
It should also go without saying that this story does have an 'M' rating and that this chapter is NOT for children's eyes.
That being said, this chapter does have quite a bit of genuine humor and emotion in it, and I put a lot of effort into it. So enjoy! And don't forget to review!
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A few more days had passed. Harris and Tony were still on their way through the desert on horseback. Harris was still very conscious of the very attractive older man sitting right behind him on the horse, and this time he wasn't bored. Despite everything he felt... happy. Excited, even.
And so he was humming. It was soft enough to easily become background noise.
He'd feared Tony would be annoyed by it. He wasn't.
Instead he seemed to get lost in the moment, resting his chin atop Harris's head as he listened to Harris's voice.
This distracted Harris and he stopped humming. He made no attempt to remove Tony's chin, nor to bring back the gap between his back and Tony's chest. The act of leaning in to rest his chin on Harris's head had removed that gap.
Then Tony seemed to remember himself and straightened back up, his chin leaving Harris's head.
Harris sighed softly in disappointment, in spite of himself.
"I am sorry," said Tony. "That was unbecoming of me."
Harris hoped the unnecessary apologies wouldn't become a regular occurrence. He then said that aloud.
"Unnecessary?" asked Tony, incredulously. "You are a man. And you are far younger than I."
"Yes," said Harris, patiently. "And?"
"And it was wrong of me to treat you like a woman," Tony finished.
"Is it?" asked Harris. "I wish you'd continue, I was really enjoying that."
"You are young enough to be my son!" Tony yelled.
"But I'm not your son," Harris pointed out calmly. "And even if I was, I'm also twenty-seven years old. We're both adults."
"It would be wrong," said Tony firmly.
"Is it me you're trying to convince of that, or yourself?" asked Harris amused. "If I was your son, I'd be happy that my sexy dad was into me that way. You'd be much better than my actual father."
There was a sudden shocked silence as both he and Tony processed what he had just said.
"Sorry," said Harris awkwardly. "That... was way too forward of me. I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable. Please don't hate me."
"That's what you're apologizing for?" Tony asked incredulously. "For being too forward?"
"And for making you uncomfortable," said Harris. Then he scowled. "What did you expect me to apologize for? My feelings? Those aren't my fault!"
"So you say you wish you were my son and my woman!?" Tony shouted incredulously. "Both!?"
"Looks like I get one point for causing you enough culture shock for your mind to explode before the day is over," said Harris dryly. "But that's just your mind. What does your heart have to say about this?"
Tony was quiet for a few long moments, before he slowly said, "My heart says you are a woman. And that you would make a good future wife. But my eyes say you are a man! I do not understand."
"Well... " Harris began cautiously. "They're both right and wrong in different ways. Your eyes are right because I'm not a woman and I'm definitely quite male. I don't see myself as a woman and neither do the people of my homeworld. But that's if we're defining manhood and womanhood by my cultural standards. If we were to use yours, then I'd be a woman and your heart would be right."
Tony said nothing to that. Perhaps he didn't know what to say.
"I encountered a number of men when I arrived here," Harris continued. "All of them had more muscle tone than me. Even the artisans, merchants and entertainers! And they all acted like... it's hard to put my finger on it exactly. But it was like they were all carrying their own various burdens as well as others'. Not that I'm not too, but it's like..."
He took a breath and composed his thoughts.
"It was like they were all like... warriors," said Harris. "Even when they weren't fighting actual battles, their lives were still like battles to them. I have a bit of that myself too, but I'm more of a peacemaker than a warrior. I don't like fighting. I hate fighting. I love to show off in friendly competition, but I don't seek out conflict if I don't have to. My enemy has never been a person. Even when my parents were being terribly abusive to me, I knew that killing them, even fighting back at all, wouldn't make anything better. Because once I'd defeated them, someone else would just take their place. And whoever that was would be even worse than them."
Harris could just imagine the shocked expression on the face of the man sitting on the horse behind him.
He pressed on, "My enemy isn't sentient, so I can't change its mind. Or its heart. It has no body so I can't kill it with a knife or a sword. It's the default tendency for things to fall apart, that everything returns to the void if we don't make a real effort to prevent it from doing so. That includes everything that matters to me in life. The only way to win was not to fight. Instead I chose to build. I chose to connect."
"And I chose to fight," Tony said quietly, a strange wonder in his voice. "I chose to protect. To protect my family. My priests. My people. And you."
"Is that a confession of love?" Harris asked jokingly.
"I do not know," said Tony. "Perhaps it is."
"We've only known each other for about a week," Harris noted. "I definitely wouldn't say I'm in love with you yet, but my feelings for you are definitely of the romantic variety."
"...It is the same for me," Tony admitted.
"And they're growing every day, aren't they?" asked Harris.
"Indeed," said Tony. As if on impulse, he suddenly leaned down to rest his chin on Harris's head again. "Perhaps we should act on them."
Harris smiled, noticing the feeling of the physically pleasurable thing happening behind him. The same one which had happened days ago. This time it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable.
"What changed your mind?" he asked.
"Everything you said was in the sacred tongue," Tony informed him with a grin in his voice. "And I could tell you meant every word, girl."
"I'm not a girl," Harris reflexively argued.
"You said you are," Tony reminded him. "By my cultural standards, as you put it. And my heart sees you as one."
"My cultural standards would disagree with you," Harris shot back.
"Your cultural standards are wrong," said Tony with a chuckle.
"Oh yeah?" Harris asked playfully, not entirely thinking about what he was saying. Or perhaps no longer caring. "Then prove it."
"Very well," Tony growled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
A brief pull of the reins and the horse was stopped.
"Your cultural standards are wrong."
Harris felt the words breathed huskily into his ear.
Tony dismounted the horse.
Harris then found himself scooped into the older man's arms.
A mouth was pressed to his. Then a tongue thrust its way inside.
Harris's eyes widened in shock. Even though he wanted this and intellectually knew it was going to happen, his heart was still surprised that it was actually happening.
His arms wrapped around Tony's neck and kissed him back.
After a while of that, Tony broke the kiss and looked into Harris's eyes.
"Are you a man?" he asked, seriously. "Or a woman?"
Harris was about to make a witty remark, but something in Tony's eyes stopped him from being sarcastic.
"You know that depends on how we define such terms," said Harris wryly. "In my everyday life I feel more like a man than a woman, albeit not the most masculine one around. I mean I don't feel effeminate in my everyday life. And there are a lot of guys who are even more effeminate than I am, who don't see themselves as womanly at all. Many of them are into women themselves, even though I'm not."
Tony gave him a look.
"I mean that relatively speaking, by the standards of my home world, I am not effeminate at all except in the bedroom," said Harris. "But I suppose that right now, being held in your arms like this is making me feel kinda like a woman maybe? But I wouldn't say I'm transgender or anything. I'm still male."
"Are you?" asked Tony, skeptically. He grinned. "You believe yourself a man?"
"Yeah, basically," Harris replied with a smile.
Tony kissed his neck and caressed his back. The caresses were getting lower and lower.
Then Harris felt the words, "I disagree," breathed into his ear.
After another growl of "Your cultural standards are wrong", Tony's mouth descended on Harris's once more.
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In a realm far beyond the reach of mortals, a falcon and a wolf were pointedly not looking at each other.
"So..." said the wolf, awkwardly.
"So..." said the falcon, with equal awkwardness.
"Have you destroyed the 'sacred relics' yet?" the wolf barked.
"Have you spoken to Meretseger recently?" the falcon squawked knowingly. "She has yet to resume her post. They are saying she betrayed us."
"I have not spoken to Meretseger," the wolf barked. "You say she has betrayed us? Interesting..."
"Yes, very much so," the hawk squawked pointedly. "Especially since she has feathers and scales. Usually the traitor has fur."
"Usually the traitor has a clear and justifiable reason to betray," the wolf growled menacingly.
"Like when you killed my father?" the hawk crowed with equal menace in his voice.
"He got better," the wolf yelped in protest.
"You did not know he would!" the hawk crowed indignantly.
"That time was different," the wolf argued. "We were young and foolish."
"What about all the other times!?" the hawk screeched accusingly. "If you were not a god you would have been fed to Ammit aeons ago!"
"Are you not the one who keeps saying to stop feeding souls to Ammit?" the wolf growled.
"That's besides the point!" the falcon screeched.
"You never give me a chance to do better!" the wolf spat, outraged. "Every time I try to be good, you go out of your way to make me bad again! You are my nephew, how is it that you always keep me on a leash!? And the other gods always listen to you."
"I would not keep you on a 'leash' as you put it if you would just settle down and behave!" the falcon screeched like nails on a chalkboard. "Can you not go for one century without making a mess for me to clean up? I am embarrassed to call you my uncle."
"And I am embarrassed to call you my nephew!" the wolf shouted. "To think even my wife wants us to be more than that! She is out of her damn mind!"
"She definitely is," the falcon squawked, its talons gripping its perch tensely. "My mother says the same thing. That we should kiss and make up. And Thut says—"
"Do not mention him," the wolf growled. "Ever."
"It is not Thut's fault that we—"
"Stop."
"―had him." the falcon finished.
"And we should not have," the wolf barked louder, its voice booming like thunder. "Do not speak to me of Thut. It was a mistake for us to make him."
"You mean it was a mistake for us to make him from you," the hawk corrected.
"Perhaps," the wolf growled. "I would rather infants emerge from your forehead than mine."
"That will never happen," the hawk declared. "Your hindsight has always been better than your foresight, dear uncle. I knew you could not bear to bear a child. I knew that you would find it unpleasant, but you did not listen to me. You never do."
"...Then perhaps now is the time for me to start," the wolf barked as it began to turn into a freakishly tall man with a thick goatee and stomped towards the hawk, black thunderclouds trailing behind him. "You wished to be the one bearing a child? This time I will grant your wish, and I will listen to you scream my name while I do so."
"It is too late for that," the hawk screeched in challenge, white clouds emanating from his form as he also turned into a man, a shorter and even thinner one with white-feathered wings and a long, wispy mustache. "Once a child-bearer always a child-bearer, my dear uncle."
"We shall see," the freakishly tall man growled. "You are the one with a cloaca, after all."
The two of them glared at each other for a long moment. Then they pounced on each other. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, rain fell and war drums beat as their tongues battled for ultimate supremacy. Then they began savagely ripping off each other's...
Meanwhile Harris and Tony were shown doing something very similar through a window into the land of mortals. That window hovered nearby, completely ignored.
And while Horus and his uncle Set were attempting to make love-hate to each other in the mortal-viewing room, the rest of the Egyptian pantheon (minus Meretseger) waited just outside with baited breath and hope in their hearts.