[livejournal.com profile] writers_muses 86.6 - You Who Dwell In Contentment

Apr. 27th, 2009 12:54 pm
sekhmet_mrytamn: (lovers)
[personal profile] sekhmet_mrytamn
Be wakeful and healthy Min-Amun,
Lord Everlasting, Who created Eternity.
Receiver of worship as the Foremost One of Ipet-Sut
with sturdy horns and handsome face,
Who wears the crown of Upper Egypt with towering double plumes.
Praise be Yours who dwell in contentment
Lord of a joyful heart, glorious in power,
The sight of You is cherished by the Netjeru.

The shadows outside the offices of the First Prophet of Amun were a cool respite from the bright glare of the courtyards of Ipet-isut. Sekhmet Meritamen peered from the tall double doors that were slightly apart. From inside Sekhmet caught the scent of kapet and cedarwood, both favorites of Imen and His son. Smiling, she turned to her escort, a young acolyte of the temple and pressed her finger to her lips before the youth could open his mouth to speak. The Hm Ntjr Tepe ne Imen would be alone now, and she did not want to be announced.

The bright light of Kemet shone in from the windows and was diffused by whisps of fine linen that blew in the breeze. The First Prophet did not hear the approach of the lioness. The white sandals of priesthood had been silently discarded. Her feline footfalls upon the cool glazed tiles now fell unheard, undetected. The lioness stood over the seated figure, studying the man with broad and muscular shoulders that considered his own hands. The gold of his collar and its counterpoise glinted in the dim light, and she caught his scent. The myrrh, frankincense, and the sweet unguents and costly oils that had been a part of his ablutions before the morning ritual and afternoon rites at Ipet-isut. They had always been heady, but not nearly as heady to her as aura of the man who wore them.

She let her small, hands, long fingers run over his shoulders and biceps, over his forearms and then at last covered his hands with her own smaller ones. She breathed a kiss into his neck above the heavy gold collar. The breath had made him incline his head back toward her.

"Hemet nefer", Tjeti closed his eyes and smiled. Her presence was an unexpected pleasure and a welcome distraction from thoughts of Kemet''s troubles but it was the hungry thump of her heart made him respond to her kiss and suddenly his mouth was moist with it. The taste of honey was on her tongue and the sweetness made him nibble at her lips.

"Merii, Hi*", she responded to him between kisses.

"Your business is finished?" he asked her. Sekhmet slid her small body over the arm of the chair and into her husband's lap,.

"Yes. I will be leaving for Alexandria late tonight. I've left AmunNofret with instructions that she is to keep an eye on her sullen father for me." she playfully nipped at his shoulder.

"I am not sullen," Tjeti snorted with feigned indignance, he picked up a whisk and gently flicked it at his wife's nose. With feline agility her fingers wrapped round his wrist to stay his hand from a second flick, she laughed softly.

"And I would also be willing to wager that your trip has less to do with the fate of Kemet''s physicians and the Asclepion or your brother's professional advancement in Waset," he ventured warily.


"Probably." his large eyes narrowed at her with a pretended sternness, "You're up to something," his hand absently caressed her torso.

"Yes." she kissed his neck, "Of course I am."

"Always," he shook his head and chuckled softly.

Sekhmet was his right hand, priestess of Sekhmet, physician and wife and she was the one that he trusted beyond all others. She knew his thoughts and most aspects of his business. It was her job to know, and she furthered the interests of her husband while maintaining graceful control of her own.

"As long as you stay out of any official trouble," he grinned.

Sekhmet did not answer him again, but instead kissed him harder, one hand coursed down his chest, his abdomen. She was hungry. She moved her attentions over the magnificent body of her husband. She tasted the bitterness myrrh mixed with the salt and sweat of his skin. Sekhmet's mind weighed the propriety of her thoughts in the holy halls of Ipet-isut. It was the aching fetters of need in the warm pulse of her belly that made her cast aside any priestly objections. They were in his private offices, surely such quiet indiscretions had gone on in the external cells and corridors of the House of the Great Hidden One. Was she not Amun's Beloved, herself? Did she not bring joy to His First Son? Amun Himself, would approve, she thought, his lips bruising across her hennaed lips.

Her hands found the knot that held his kilt made of fine byssus linen to his body. Her fingers had long-ago learned the knots that both husband and servant tied and she undid them now by instinct. Pushing aside the linen between his muscular thighs she knelt before the ebon chair, pressing her face against his belly, inhaling all the sweet scents of him again. She looked up at her husband's face, his fingers fondled her earlobe and earring, his eyes dark. She trailed her delicate pointed fingers along the generous folds of pleated priestly linen. Finding the shape of him, he sighed at her touch and she felt him swelling rapidly through the fabric of his kilt. Sekhmet kissed below his navel, she felt him stiffen against her small but deft fingers and palms. The First Prophet would now be unable to perform the evening rites, his purity had now been sacrificed for at least a day - and so had hers.

It did not matter, and he watching his wife through content, half closed eyes. And when the Lioness began to devour him, he knew that he no longer cared.

Muse: Sekhmet Merytamun
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 930 (not including New Kingdom love poem tr. by John L. Foster)

*Merii Hi = Beloved husband.
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