Lion Head Mesa spear & sickle

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timeskip & fade! it made the most sense w his personality but i want another posthaste :O

playing the rough man was what had thrilled hatshepsuun the most. surrounded by sycophants and servants, khusobek and his masculine obstacles to her want had provided a new taste for the bored pharaoh.

inji led him to a small room. khusobek stood before her and watched the young fellahin's surely studied attempts at seduction. he did not need her for so long; a step and another and he would have what was commanded and what had been offered. 

the rough man.

the crocodile entertained no hope that inji could command as eset and melody once had, and this put he and the pretty fellahin at an immediate disparity. "no," the mazoi said in a low rumble, and with heft and brief roll of his hard shoulders he tossed her lightly to the pelts which made her couch. 

for a long moment he only looked down upon her, eyes darkened with lust. and then he seemed to soften, to relent. slowly he lowered himself until he had taken some place beside the bed. to know he could have what he wished was appealing; to serve was moreso.

thus khusobek began his servitude to inji, a langorous and firm exploration meant to wake each ending of nerve and juncture of muscle, one that would culminate in a brief, hoarsened joining when he felt no more could be borne by either of them.

***

when he had been sated, khusobek rose with a long sigh. "rest awhile. i will get another servant." he waited for no answer; he would take his bath now, and did not expect inji to join him. 
but by way of another fellahin, later that evening a parcel would be delivered to her, a wrapping of hide filled with soft meadowgrass, and inside a small, glittering blue stone, a raw chip of sapphire.
khusobek believed in gifts, after all.