Lion Head Mesa Voice of man

where was he, indeed; senmut closed his eyes in surrender, given over to rashepses as godservant was meant to be.

there was pleasure. there was fear, for senmut had never lain with a man in either role. but his skin was taut and aching beneath the searing kiss of the Consort. also new to the priest was such a connection, without emotion; he cared for legend and nazli in a way he had not yet been able to find for rashepses.

senmut chose them for he felt that beneath all the bold trappings of his station, they were his equals, sesh and mazoi and hem, all in service to a higher order.

but this! so vastly different: the servant inside senmut now plucked from its altar and forced to eager knees before the godlight of rashepses.

they would never be equals, and each of them knew it.

toula; "no, Golden One," the priest managed as his sensitive ears were teasingly caressed by tonguetip; "she holds only divinity for me, untouchable." their mouths collided; "even if she had chosen me to stand beside her, i am not sure i could have touched her without righteous fear."