Hideaway Strath linen

ramesses laughed aloud at this, and haughtily. at last he pulled himself from the ingratiating waters, allowing it to flow from him in a deluge. "he is not a man who is used to being denied," pharaoh pointed out, slumping to one pale hip as he began to groom himself before satsu's small voice.
the lord. divine one. titles given with nothing behind them. pharaoh let his bluestone gaze flicker temptingly over the blushing dancer, wetting his mouth behind the sly grin.
ramesses thought now of the women he had known through these years, and how he remembered not a single name from among them. perhaps that was always how it must be.
"our grandmaster enjoys pretty things." by know pharaoh assumed that the brindled man had been given, and taken, the full run of the saints' ranks. ramesses could deny, but satsu — she did not strike him as one who would give resistance if granted an order.
he looked toward the dancer, droplets collected upon his chin.