Lion Head Mesa goddess-born [m]

Ensnared upon that gilded paw as it caressed her chin, smoothing down through plush neck, over collarbone, across the flatness of her belly…

He thrusted himself forward, through the waters, reaching for his wife to draw her up upon the shallow embankment beneath. The angular chin crested warm waters as a roughened paw sought to open her like a spring lotus before him. He fixed himself there with a low groan, gold again melting into teal.

Hadn’t they both moved like rivers?

Rashepses drew into Toula, feeling at once glory; light. His paws explored her, admiring the tightness of her belly he knew would soon again grow with their creation.

This is what only Gods felt pressed together. Fever. Vapor. Soul. Pulsus.

Finally, he felt their writhing again in sync. He held her there, at the cusp. “You are mine. You will never know another. All your eternities belong to me, Iset—”

And he shifted her just far enough away that she would see the gilt of Osiris in his eyes. “We are one and the same, goddess; lover; wife. Name me Pharaoh, alongside you. Two Gods. Two palaces. Two Pharaohs.”