In the early hours of the morning, a trio of white-robed palace guards wound their way through the royal halls, headed for the large, outdoor training grounds. Despite the early hour, the three youths vigorously chattered away.

"Did you hear about the brown-haired temple guardian and the dark-eyed bodyguard who were both with Lord Mahaado last night?"

"Was it the tall, stern one? And the guy who came here from Saqarra?"

"Yes, those two! You'll never guess what they did together."

"What did they do?"

"Well apparently Lord Mahaado took two at the same time!"

"He took two -?"

"No way!"

"He put them there-?"

"How long were they at it?"

"All night?!"

"Such unbelievable stamina!"

"Get this. I heard Amenpnufer licked wine from his belly button!"

"Unreal! Nebtawi swears by Bast that he ate honey-coated berries off his chest!"

As his comrades traded bits and pieces of the latest gossip regarding their Captain's sizzling sexual encounters, Peybek recalled the first time he laid eyes on Lord Mahaado. It was three weeks ago now. The Captain had been dragged into the pharaoh's judgment hall in the middle of the night. The night the criminal calling himself Thief King Bakura had appeared before the pharaoh, threatening to make off with all seven sacred items. He knew little of the exact details of the great battle that ensued. The rumors whispered that the pharaoh had punished the intruder with the iron fist of god. The rumors also whispered that the blame for the security breach was laid at the feet of the Captain of the Royal Guard.

This was the man that, up until that point, had been the most spotless, star-studded member of the pharaoh's inner court, second only to High Priest Set. No one could make heads or tails of how the king's undisputed favorite had fallen so far out of His Majesty's favor.

The so-called judgement that followed was the most bizarre spectacle he had ever seen. Also, objectively, the hottest.

Peybek's blood pounded in his veins as he recalled the many grasping hands that had shamelessly fondled Lord Mahaado's lithe, battle-hardened body. Sweat tickled down the inside of Peybek's thighs as he recalled Set's seven courtiers cupping the Captain's ass, squeezing his nipples, spreading his legs. The last thing he remembers of that night was getting an eye-full of the Captain's thick, grithy cock as the courtiers stripped him of his final undergarment. Peybek woke up an hour later in an infirmary unit. Dazed and completely dumbfounded.

Suddenly, a hush fell over his friends and they dropped to their knees. Peybek scrambled to his knees as well as Lord Mahaado stopped in front of them.

"My Lord," Peybek heard his friend say. "Are we not to meet you at the Royal training grounds at first light?"

Mahaado waved off their formality, sighing softly. Peybek and his fellows stood. Peybek gulped. Even the Captain's sighs were elegant.

"Yes," he heard the Captain say. "Please go on ahead of me to the place training grounds. I will be a bit...delayed."

Peybek perked up, instantly worried. "Has something happened, my Lord?"

Mahaado shook his head. "No need to be alarmed. It's just my wayward apprentice up to her usual antics. She's hiding from me again."

Lord Mahaado sighed again. Peybek couldn't help but notice how the soft morning light made his eyes shine. "I should be chasing Bakura and his minions out of this kingdom but instead I'm chasing Mana from one end of the palace to the other!" Lord Mahaado absently ran his fingers through his silky hair. Peybek had never met Mana but people described her as a streak of sunshine, vivid and energetic and exceedingly talented but prone to pranks, mischief, and all forms of troublemaking.

Peybek suddenly shivered as he felt Lord Mahaado's solid gaze linger on him. Gently appraising him. His eyes traced the curve of Peybek's shoulders, where sweat was already beginning to glisten. Peybek stood statue-still as Lord Mahaado's eyes roved over the thick curls peaking out from beneath his headdress. Peybek's chest tightened as his Captain's gaze drifted further down, to the dip of his hip. As Lord Mahaado's eyes swept unhurriedly down Peybek's dark, wiry legs, that gaze took on the hardened edge of hunger. Peybek imagined the pads of Lord Mahaado's fingertips tracing a path up his inner thighs. He imagined Lord Mahaado's tongue twirling and swirling against his sensitive skin. Fever gripped him in that moment and he tightened his hand on his staff to steady his wildly beating heart. He was several inches shorter than the Captain and much lankier. He couldn't match the elegance of Lord Mahaado's bearing. His brimming vitality and confidence. His peerless elitism. Peybek felt clumsy and small under Lord Mahaado's scrutiny. Even still...as he felt Mahaado's gaze glide over his face, resting a beat on his strong jawline...maybe, just maybe, it was possible that his Captain liked what he saw? He was jolted out of his revelry by the sound of Lord Mahaado clearing his throat.

"Peybek, I'd like to show my gratitude for your recent efforts. Personally. Is that something you'd be amenable to?"

Peybek stammered, his heart leaping to his throat. "Y-Yes. Of c-course, my Lord. I am honored."

"Then meet me outside my chambers tonight. Directly after the last patrol." Mahaado nodded once to the trio of guards, then billowed away in a cloud of gold and white.

Peybek stared after him, astonished, then jolted as his friends gleefully clapped him on the back.

"The gods smile on you, Peybek!"

"Wow! Has our Captain had his eyes on you this whole time?"

"You have to tell us every single dirty detail."

Peybek rapped his knuckles on the door frame. His whole body vibrated with nervous excitement. On the other side of that door, just a few feet away, was Lord Mahaado. Was he already undressed? Peybek's vision blurred, his head spinning off kilter at the mere thought of seeing that warm, naked skin up close again. Gods! He had to get a grip. Chin up. Shoulders back. Deep breaths.

Just then, Mahaado called softly from inside the room. "Just a moment."

Peybek gripped the sides of his short embroidered tunic. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, still taken-aback by the sheer luxury of the garment. It was the most expensive thing he'd ever worn. The guards in his division had all pitched in part of their pay so that he could appear before the Captain in something at least approximating the level of refinement Lord Mahaado was no doubt accustomed to. Peybek heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him. He turned, then immediately kneeled as none other than High Priest Seto appeared before him.

"Lord Set." Peybek greeted, averting his gaze.

"You're dismissed."

Peybek's heart hammered in his chest."I-I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"You heard me. You will return to your post or your chambers or wherever you're supposed to be at this hour."

"But your grace, Lord Mahaado, he-"

"I have words for the Captain of the Royal Guard and wewillhave privacy."

Dejected, Peybek replied, "Yes, my lord." Then he stood and walked away. From the other side of the doorway, Set heard Mahaado's voice. "Come in."

Set had hardly stepped inside when he heard Mahaado gently say, "Leave your sandals and staff by the door. You may select whichever oil and incense you wish." Mahaado's back was turned to him. He was wearing a sheer, diaphanous linen garment that clung ostentatiously to his toned figure, highlighting every dip and curve of the man's lean musculature in stark, delicious relief. Seto swallowed down a bitter pang of desire and stepped into the magician's line of vision.

"So this is how the Great Captain conducts his nightly encounters."

Mahaado paled at the sound of the all too familiar voice. He whirled around, astonished. "High Priest..!? What are you doing here? Where is Peybek?"

"I dismissed him."

"What? Why?"

Mahaado pinched the skin between his brows. Peybek was a sensitive soul. He'd probably shed hot tears of shame at being caught outside his Captain's bedchambers at such a scandalous hour. He could imagine how that small body rattled at being dismissed by Set, who triple-outranked him. He'd have to apologize to the boy for all of this. Mahaado sighed. He felt the telltale signs of a headache creeping at the edge of his temple.

"Mahaado." The High Priest's voice was louder now. His tone had taken on a dark, stonyfaced edge. "Tell me. What is really going on with you? I've never known you to be this gluttonous and unrestrained."

"What I do during my off hours is my own business."

"The hell it is! It's not onlyyourbusiness when you've single handledly fucked almost every member of the entire security apparatus! It's not onlyyourbusiness when the whole of court gossip revolves around first hand accounts of your supposed sexual prowess! Courtiers are supposed to gossip about upcoming trade deals, about skirmishes at the border. About the unsightly shade of green the Assyrian King insists on decorating his audience hall during the country's annual moon festival. They are not supposed to be gossiping about the very intimate details of the private sex life of one of the highest ranking members of the pharaoh's court!"

Mahaado shrugged, undeterred. "No one has complained. Besides, palace security is flawless."

"That may very well be the case, but -"

"Seto. This is for the good of the kingdom. For the safeguarding of his majesty."

"What happens when there are no more security guards left? Will you take to fucking the craftsmen? The tomb workers? Perhaps the masons and the merchants?"

"And what if I did?" Mahaado countered defiantly.

Seto reeled, surprised by Mahaado's vehemence.

"Seto, the only people allowed in my chambers at this ungodly hour - short of an emergency with His Majesty or my apprentice - are those who intend to spread their legs for me. Are we quite done here, High Priest?"

Mahaado turned his back to Set, expecting to hear the sound of the High Priest's footsteps as he left the room. Instead, he heard the distinct clink of metal against wood. He turned around to see that Seto had taken off his headdress and was presently slipping off his linen sandals.

Baffled and irritated, Mahaado let out a strained sigh. "Do you need me to escort you back to your bedchambers, priest?"

Seto ignored him. Mahaado watched as the High Priest slipped the gold jewelry from his wrists and arms. A realization began to dawn on him. "Seto...are you...undressing? You can't seriously be intending to...fuck me?!"

"And what if I did?" Mahaado face inflamed, his warm chestnut skin flushing a violent shade of red. "Set-? What?"

All of a sudden, Mahaado was back in His Majesty's judgement hall. Seto glowers at him as the relentless hands of his coquettish minions strip him of his clothing and his dignity, all while his king wordlessly beholds his utter public disgrace. The shame and despair Mahaado felt in that moment all comes rushing back to him. It quickly turns to searing, white-hot anger.

"Didn't you get your fill at the judgement?!"

Mahaado scoffs. Set winces at the wild look in his eyes.

"Seriously, Seto, what the hell even was that back there? Why couldn't you just execute me like a normal person? No. You choose to humiliate me in front of the entire assembly of noblemen. In front of the Divine Company. In front of the pharaoh himself!"

Mahaado shot Set a murderous, withering glare. "I might be a whore, but you're a heartless piece of shit."

Seto's whole body trembled. Of course he didn't expect Mahaado to have simply gotten over it. To have forgiven him. But he had the wrong idea entirely.

"You think I wanted youkilled?You really think for a second I could preside over yourexecution?"

Set exhaled deeply, trying to calm myself. Trying to remain in control. He could still salvage the situation. "My methods may be...harsh and unorthodox at times and we may have our differences, but I've never wished for your death, Mahaado. Not once. I don't want your blood on my hands. This country can't afford to lose you."

Mahaado stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable.

Seto took a deep breath. "Ican't lose you."

All the air left the room. The silence was oppressive. The only reaction from Mahaado was the slight raise of a single, elegant eyebrow. Then Mahaado started moving toward him. What would he do when he reached him? Slap him? Scream in his face? Unmake him with one pass of his staff? Seto shivered as Mahaado walked straight past him. He heard the creek of wood as Mahaado sat down at his desk chair. Set counted down to five. Then he walked over to where Mahaado was sitting. Mahaado's thighs slid open and Seto slipped in. In the next instance, their lips met.

Seto hissed as he felt Mahaado's grip on his hips tighten. Set was pounding into him now, driving himself deeper and deeper into Mahaado's molten hot center. The magician buried his face in the crook of Seto's shoulder, kissing and sucking and biting his skin. Seto's pulse skyrocketed. He was nearing his limit. Mahaado was gasping, moaning, begging, his back arched. Each sweet sound that escaped from Mahaado's lips pricked goosebumps on Seto's sweat-drenched skin. He thrustedharder, faster,deeperinto the magician, making him writhe and spasm with bone-deep pleasure. And finally, the dam broke. Mahaado was the first to climax, shuddering, rasping, his seed spilling. Seto soon followed, tremors racking his body as he came hard and sharp inside the magician.

As he pulled himself out of Mahaado's lower regions, the magician collapsed against his chest wailing,"Atem!"

Atem..?! Seto blinked, his blood turning to ice. That's what this was all about..?!

For what it's worth, Seto had, for some time, suspected that Mahaado secretly pined for his childhood friend. As Mahaado murmured breathlessly into his chest -my love! my king! my only god!- Set's throat tightened. It seemed that Mahaado's pining had morphed into an obsession. A disease. A corrosive poison. A curse.

"He's who you think about every time you do this, isn't he?"

Mahaado huffed, raising his head and gently disentangling his legs from their place around Seto's hips.

"If you love the Pharaoh, then why this endless string of sexual escapades? Why are you torturing yourself like this? Why isn't he in your bed now?"

Mahaado rolled his eyes, turning on his side. "It isn't allowed, Seto."

"That's your excuse? I knew you were a hopeless, rule-following do-gooder but this is excessive, even for you."

"Set. He's the divine Horus. The supreme ruler. It is an offense againstmaatto speak his name in public. It is a crime to look him in the eyes. It is a sin to touch him. And you think I could bed him?"

"It's not an offense againstmaatto be in love! He may be king, but he's still human. He's still the boy you grew up with." Seto sighed, his anguish and frustration growing by the second.

"He doesn't know, does he? Atem doesn't know that you love him."

"And he never will. And youwon'ttell him anything. You've interfered enough. Stay out of this, Seto."

With an angry huff, Seto tossed the sheets aside and began to pull on his discarded clothes and jewelry. "Mahaado, you can't possibly think this is a sustainable solution. At this rate, you'll destroy yourself. You'll die of heartbreak, choking on the bile of your insidious, unrequited love. You'll break under the weight of your obsessive fantasies. You'll drown in your insatiable lust and deprive Mana of a teacher and Atem of his lifelong companion. All for the sake of your fucking self-righteous pretense."

Seto slammed the door behind him, the tremors reverberating deep in Mahaado's bones.

Notes:

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing." - F. Dostoeysky