Lion Head Mesa ho[m]e

They had been apart for so long that Nazli had expected things to feel new again, or different, or somehow very strange, and yet she found herself melting in to the water and the shadow before Senmut. The hour grew so late that even the most dutiful fellahin was not to be heard in the halls; it was a perfect time to be together, just the two of them.

In the time after, warmed by the presence of her love for him, Nazli could only sigh and press against the slicked wet chest of her man.

There is a pleasant quiet between them. Heavy breathing punctuates the moment, and the lust in her eyes has become softer. I love you, my priest.