Luneshale Pass Benim.

@Samirseti

Leto had returned to the basin in the day, loudly exclaiming that she had a message for Arslan. He had complied, if only to keep her quiet before other's heard his dirty secret.

Now he returned to the pass in the cover of night, his head lowered and his expression contemplating. She had said that 'Benim' was searching for him, so he thought it appropriate. It was where they had met.

The only time they had met.

He had intended to keep it discreet, to ensure that it was a one-time thing, and yet Benim now seemed to be pursuing him. The lion could not have that. He could not risk it.

He may act on his hunger openly, but to have another potentially speak of it was another issue entirely. It would solidify it, allow it to truly become a part of him. If that were to happen he truly would never be able to return to Siena.

He moved. Slender, raw, exquisite. A black cat beneath the cover of moonlight, a breath away from twilight's gentle kiss. Only one thing occupied the Black Prince's mind tonight.

Or, someone.

Nefer. He was a rare treat. Samir craved more. A dish he could not put down. He was not yet sated, and he would indulge himself until he was that. It was not the first time he had returned to this spot in the past days.

He had once, then he'd cursed himself for being such a fool. Nefer would not be there, of course. It was a one time thing.

But then he had come again. And again. And here he was again tonight, stalking the lowlands, a predator awaiting it's prey. He had almost convinced himself to give it up before there was movement in the dry brush.

There he was. Samir's golden eyes gleamed with a depraved curiosity as they washed over the little lion, and he slunk forwards, taking it upon himself to meet him in the middle.

A smile upon his devilish face.

As the familiar stranger met him in silence, he was quick to lift his head. Now standing tall.

Benim. He greeted. I hear that you have met Leto. Sweet girl, isn't she? A smile was offered, unwilling to reveal the extent of his frustration.

A part of him was glad to see the man again, and yet a voice still hung over him demanding him to turn back, scolding him for coming here at all. Benim was not like the others; he carried a similar hunger. It made him nervous; excited, but nervous all the same.

Arslan could not understand the guilt that hung over him, for he had never experienced such feelings. There was little to feel guilt for in his life.

Samir tilted his head as his little lion approached, eyes tracing faint circles across his face.

“Sweet, yes. She has a... charm about her.” His golden eyes never left Arslan’s, his tone carrying just the faintest edge of amusement. “But it wasn’t Leto who kept me coming back here.”

Samir let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze steady, almost predatory, as he studied the lion before him. The nervous energy rolling off of Arslan was palpable, a delicious tension that only made the hunger in Samir’s chest burn hotter. He could see the conflict in the other’s stance—the stiffness of pride battling with the hesitation of something unspoken.

It fascinated him.

He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a smoother, quieter pitch. “You seem... conflicted, Nefer.” He let the word linger, savoring the way it rolled from his tongue like a low purr. “Should I take your hesitation as guilt, or as restraint? Tell me, little lion, what is it that holds you back?”

Samir’s smile curled into something sharper, his devilish charm radiating as his tail flicked lazily behind him.

Not conflicted, He corrected, Maybe confused.

Eyes searched Benim, furrowed brows scorning his face of smooth russet patterns. You told Leto you were searching for me. I do not understand. He truly did not. Did he to, not have reason to hide?

Maybe it was simply that Arslan had much to learn, that Benim was more experienced. He did not know. The sense of shame was disgusting, he wished to be rid of it one way or another.

He wondered if Benim was the key.

Samirseti’s smile softened, but the glint in his golden eyes remained, sharp and unyielding. He took another slow step forward, his presence steady, deliberate, as though closing the space between them was inevitable. “I told Leto because I wanted to see you again,” he said plainly, his tone devoid of hesitation.

“Why dance around the truth? It was you I sought, Nefer, and here you are.”

Samir’s gaze lingered, searching Arslan’s furrowed expression as if trying to read the emotions carved there. He could see the tension, the questions churning behind those vivid eyes. Samir's little lion wore his confusion openly, and Samir couldn’t decide if it was endearing or frustrating. Perhaps it was both.

“There is nothing to understand,” he stressed, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “Nothing but the language of our bodies.” His smile curled, more devious now, the predator slipping through the cracks of his princely facade.

He stepped forward boldly to close the distance that remained between them. His inky, towering form swallowed him whole, his side brushing along Nefer's like an agile feline. "Do not deny yourself, little lion."

As Benim's words rung through him he found himself melting into the other without thought. It was only when his head was already nestled into the fur of the other's chest that he noticed. He inhaled the familiar scent, and decided it best to indulge himself.

One more time. One more time and he would be satisfied.

When you said I would be yours, was it not hyperbole then? He managed a snicker, deciding it best not to allow his mood to remain sour.

Just once more he would indulge himself.

Samirseti’s grin widened, the flicker of triumph unmistakable in his golden eyes as Nefer—his little lion—melted into him. He let the moment stretch, savoring the way the tension drained from Arslan’s body, replaced by something far sweeter.

The warmth of the other’s form against his own was intoxicating, a sensation he didn’t intend to relinquish so easily.

He leaned his head down slightly, his muzzle brushing just against the top of Arslan’s head as his voice dropped into a near whisper.

“When I speak, little lion, it is
not lightly. You are mine. Not in words alone, but in the very marrow of what we are.”

The words sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, and Arslan imagined that if he were a lesser man he would be weak in the knees. I don't think you understand what it does to me when you speak like that. He spoke, hushing his own voice to match the tone of Benim.

I nearly feel guilty for making you share. Narrowed eyes looked up to the face of the other, searching for a reaction. He wished to test him.

He wondered how only one meeting had put the two of them in such a state. Maybe he had been silly to put something so clearly willed by the god's to waste.

“Ah, nefer,” he murmured, letting the endearment drip from his tongue like honey, “then perhaps you should speak more carefully. Do you not see what your words do to me?” His nose settled against the top of the smaller male's head, breathing in his scent with an almost depraved gasp.

But then--

His pups narrowed into sharp slits as the word share lingered in the air. His smirk melted into something harder, sharper, and far more dangerous. “Share?” he growled, his voice low and edged with disbelief. “What do you mean, share?”

Before Arslan could respond, his weight pressed forward, his body towering over the smaller wolf as he relentlessly pushed him 'till his back was to the earth. A large, firm paw came to rest against Arslan’s chest, dangerously near his throat, pinning him with unrelenting strength. The move was calculated, dominant, but not cruel.

His muzzle was close, his breath warm against Arslan’s face. “Do you think I would ever let anyone else have what’s mine? Do you think I’d allow it?”

The grin that curled his lips now was dangerous, a sharp contrast to the gentle brush of his paw keeping Arslan in place. “No, little lion,” he murmured, his tone softer now, but no less commanding. “I will not share. Not you. Not ever.”

His eyes burned through Nefer like molten slits rivaling the sun's wrath. "Tell me who I must slay and it shall be done. Ra as my witness."

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Laid on his back with Benim stood above him Arslan found that a grin had settled on his face. God, you make me feel like a bitch in heat you know? His tail thumped on the ground, and he found himself pleased. You're far too easy to tease.

Never had he belonged to someone before. It was a new thrill, one that filled him with anticipation of what was to come. But a part of him wondered, would Benim belong to him as well? If he was unwilling to share, he thought it to be fair.

I will be yours, so long as you are mine. He said. I named you as such, after all. A paw lifted to rest on Benim's face, hungry eyes lifting to meet raging molten gold.

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Samirseti’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest, vibrating through the warm air between them as his golden eyes bore into Arslan’s with an intensity that could burn. The grin on the smaller male’s face only stoked the fire in him further, a thrill coursing through his veins at the boldness of the little lion pinned beneath him.

“A bitch in heat?” Samir murmured, his voice dripping with sultry amusement. “Oh, Nefer, you have no idea what you do to me.” His paw pressed more firmly against Arslan’s chest, his claws just grazing the fur without breaking the skin.

He leaned in closer, his muzzle grazing along Arslan’s jaw with deliberate slowness, his teeth nipping lightly at the sensitive spot just below his ear. Samir’s paw slid down Arslan’s chest, his weight shifting as he pressed their bodies together, his golden-black frame dominating the smaller wolf.

His voice dipped lower, richer, as he let his tongue swipe along the edge of Arslan’s muzzle. “I am yours, so long as you never mistake me for your equal. You belong to me, Nefer, completely, utterly, and irrevocably.” his murmur was heated upon fur, sickly sweet with desire. Samir shifted slightly, his paw tracing back up to Arslan’s throat, where his claws lightly grazed the skin, teasing but never harsh. “Say it,” he purred, his tone molten.

“Say you are mine. Say it with your body, with your voice, with every part of you. Let me hear it, little lion, because I won’t stop until I’ve claimed every inch of you.”

Demands were made, and Arslan could only comply. The lowlands had truly proven him to be a masochist. Lightly he found himself panting, allowing the silence to last and the tension to grow.

I have been yours, Benim. He spoke, and his voice felt thick like honey. The words were sweet on his tongue. If you wished to take me away now, I would have no choice but to comply.

He spoke the truth, for if Benim lured him into a pit of snakes he feared the he would be far too hypnotized by his sweet words to notice.

Though maybe the pit of snakes was what he was now being pulled from.

The little lion’s surrender sent a deep rumble through Samir’s chest, the sound vibrating between them like the purr of a predator finally sinking its teeth into its prey.

"Mine," Samir murmured, the word dripping with satisfaction and raw possession. His golden eyes roamed over Arslan’s form, taking in every rise and fall of his chest, every flicker of emotion in his gaze. His paw stayed firm against Arslan’s throat, a gentle reminder of the dominance he had claimed, but his muzzle softened, brushing against Arslan’s ear with a reverence that belied the heat of his actions.

"You have been mine," he whispered, his voice low and sinful, as if savoring the truth of the statement. “And you shall remain mine, little lion, until the gods themselves pull me from this earth.”

Samir leaned down further, his body pressing fully against Arslan’s now, the warmth between them impossible to ignore. He nipped once more at Arslan’s jawline, the pressure firm enough to leave a fleeting reminder of this moment, then let his breath ghost against the other’s fur.

His paw eased slightly, no longer pinning but resting against Arslan’s chest as his lips curled into a softer, more intimate smile. "I shall take you away when the time comes," he promised. "When Ra wears his crown once more and welcomes his son home."

He gave a careful nod, gently lapping the corner of the largers mouth. I will wait for you, then. The thought of returning to Verapaz was nearly unbearable now.

Will I learn your true name, Benim? He asked, the thought suddenly coming to him. The pair had never properly introduced themselves.

It felt right now, for Arslan wished for the man to know him, and he wished to know him as well. They had surely learned every inch of each other's bodies, so what was left but the mind?

Samirseti allowed a soft rumble of amusement to escape his chest at the question, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the smaller wolf beneath him. The flicker of Arslan’s tongue against the corner of his mouth had been a gesture Samir found both satisfying and emboldening. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against the edge of Arslan’s jaw.

“I have many names,” he said at last, his voice low, intimate. “Samirseti, Second son of Pharaoh Rahotep.” He spoke it into the air, but he did not stop there. His mouth trailed from Arslan’s mouth to his throat, where he pressed kisses.

“Suten sa Ra,” He breathed out, lingering faint bites to the thick coat of his chest, “Prince of Ta-Senet.”

He lets his eyes flourish upwards to Arslan’s from where his head floats between his forelegs. “Each one I yearn to hear upon your breath, Nefer.”

Samir’s paw eased off Arslan’s chest, but his presence remained heavy, his body still hovering close, his breath warm against the smaller wolf’s fur. “You asked for my name, and I have given it,” he murmured. “Now, give me yours.” His lips curled into a wicked smirk, his voice dipping further into a velvet growl. “I want to taste it on my tongue, as I’ve tasted everything else.”

His own name. He supposed it was only a fair trade.

He took his time, reveling in the other's affections both aggressive and gentle alike. Leandros Arslan. He stated after a moment, though he found that these days his given name felt unnatural. Both mean lion, but the wolves of Verapaz call me by my surname.

I can't let you one-up me though, He gave a dramatized sigh, if Benim wished to offer formal titles he would do the same. I believe I was the third son of my father, Kaan... though it is difficult to know in a litter of seven, and I was once the Crown Prince of Siena. He finished in what felt like quite the run-on sentence.

No longer the heir of Siena, but he was a prince nonetheless. Samirseti... He tested the name on his tongue, leaning his head back as though falling into a state of contemplation. A Prince, but were you ever an heir? He asked, eyes flicking back up to his lover. It's quite the feeling, to have a whole kingdom so near to your grasp.

Samirseti’s ears twitched at the sound of the name, his golden eyes gleaming as he repeated it under his breath, savoring it like a rare delicacy. "Leandros Arslan," he murmured, letting the syllables roll off his tongue as if testing their weight. "A name as strong as the lion who carries it."

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk as Arslan continued, speaking of lineage and titles with a dramatized air that Samir found both amusing and endearing. His body slid down to roll onto his side, a foreleg reaching out to beckon his little lion closer, body warm against the other’s. He pressed his nose lightly against the curve of Arslan’s nape, breathing in his scent as he listened.

“A prince of Siena,” he repeated, savoring the way it tasted upon his tongue. “How noble, how strong, my little lion.” He tucked his long frame around Arslan as he spoke.

A laugh, crisp and clear, fell from Samir's lips as his lion teased him. Ears perked forwards, and he pushed a teasing growl out from behind his teeth. He watched as Arslan's head fell back against him, watched his eyes as they roamed the sky. Samir would catch him everytime.

“To be a second son is to be the sword, not the crown,” he spoke as he began to swathe Arslan's head in soft kisses, tongue rasping along the backs of his ears. “A Prince raised to protect what was his, to carry the weight of Ta-Senet without the burden of its rule. And when I held it in my grasp...” His voice softened, tinged with an edge of hunger. "It was enough to taste the power I could wield, should the gods deem it so."

Settling into the warmth of the other a soft smile rested on his face. A second son, but a Prince all the same. It is in your blood to rule, just as it is mine. He lifted his head now to search Samir's eyes.

If you grow bored of the life you have been ordered into, promise me we will make a home of our own. It was only right, he thought. Neither of them were meant to be put on the side lines; they were born to conquer.

He did not need anything large or lavish, so long as he had Benim. So long as what they had belonged to them alone.

Wishful thinking maybe, but it was only natural to dream of a life with those you live for.

Samir lifted a paw to press beneath Arslan’s chin to tilt his face upward. “A home of our own,” he murmured, vox heavy with promise. “A kingdom.”

A smile presses into his inky black face, one that spoke of the cruelest blood purity. “It is in our blood to rule,” he whispered. “Not to linger in the shadows of others’ reigns. We are not second sons, nor overlooked princes. We are conquerors.”

Samir leaned closer, his nose brushing lightly against Arslan’s, his voice lowering further, soft but no less commanding. “And we will not only rule for ourselves. No, little lion. We will create something greater—something eternal. Our reign will be carried forward, long after we are gone.”

His paw pressed a little more firmly beneath Arslan’s chin, not harshly but with enough weight to hold his attention. “Imagine our children,” he said, his voice like a silken caress. “Ruling a world shaped by our hands. They will look upon us as gods in their lineage, for it will be our union that gave them life. We will conquer land, lay claim to all in our way, rule and possess all that we may. And our lineage shall burn with the envy of those we may slay.”

His whisper was one of fervor. Each word dripping with malice and hunger. A desire which brewed deep. It was his promise, his solemn vow.

Plans for the future, talk of generations of conquerors to come. Samirseti was right, if they were to succeed they would be living gods. Oh Benim, you speak with such passion. It truly is charming. A grin settled on his face, tongue escaping to lap at the face of his lover.

We will be Princes no longer, with this we will become rulers of our own creation. He proclaimed, eyes narrowing into a intimate yet intense stare. We will find somewhere suitable, and begin to stake our claim for when the time comes, yes?

The lion understood that they both had commitments to take care of. Samir his royal duties, and Verapaz for himself. But did any of it truly matter? He did not know. When we are ready, disappear into the night with me.

A kingdom of their own.

The wolves of the wilds would learn to fear them, to respect their regality and bow down before them. Samir their shining, golden Pharaoh, and himself a Sultan painted in the shades of the desert.

Samir tilted Arslan’s chin higher with his paw, ensuring their gazes locked, his molten gold eyes blazing with intent. “The wolves of these wilds will bow to us,” he said, his tone both commanding and reverent. “Not because they must, but because they will have no choice. They will look upon us and see gods in flesh.”

His lips curled into a devious smile as he leaned closer, his breath warm against Arslan’s ear. “You, my Sultan, painted in the fire of the desert’s dunes. And I,” his voice deepened, thick with promise, “will be their Pharaoh, the golden flame that burns eternally.”

Samir pulled back just enough to let his eyes roam over Arslan, his gaze as sharp and consuming as ever. “Together, my little lion, we will claim what is ours,” he said, his words carrying the weight of an unshakable vow.

“And we will leave behind a legacy that will outlast the stars themselves.”

fade and start smthn new? :3