Lion Head Mesa shaduf [m]

Ramesses' smile was unwavering as always as he heard Charles' stunted story. Then he suggested that perhaps Osiris chose an appearance specifically to please Charles. It made so much sense that he was so charismatic, knowing now that he was a god all along. Charles knew little about gods, but he knew that they were much bigger than wolves could ever be. It did not surprise him much that such creatures would exist. But if they truly did, then why would they cast their eyes on someone as lowly as Charles himself? He could not help but wonder.

To the suggestion, after a stunned silence the coywolf cast a heated, What? No! that betrayed the hidden longing he had felt for Osiris. Another question from Ramesses, then. What had he said? Many things...

One stuck to Charles the most. He asked, uhm... What was the word again? Demanded — for to be spoken to as leader. It stuck by Charles so much because after that, Osiris had attacked him. He cast his gaze away, feeling the burning shame of what had happened after that.

"oh, come off it, charles." now ramesses' voice flouted with a tinge of annoyance, that the man beside him should so deny his nature over and over, even as pharaoh himself gave rich food and plush lodgings to turn him into that exactly.
"and did you address him that way?" ramesses asked, interested, titillated despite his flared-nostril moment. he came back. he did not embrace charles this time; he only sat closely, comfortably.
"do not doubt the will of the gods." his lips curved in a smile of warning. "i am only their mouthpiece. i speak for them so mortal ears might hear. but i do not presume to know Osiris."

The Pharaoh's sudden anger surprised Charles and it visibly shook him. He looked away and licked his lips in subconscious submission. Already he missed and longed for Ramesses' nearness, but he did not dare ask for it.

At the question, Charles' large ears drooped a little and he continued to look away. He could feel that Ramesses had come closer again. With some shame tainting his voice Charles admitted, No, I did not. Involuntarily his thoughts were carried back to those moments. How he had wanted Osiris to maul him. How he had challenged him on purpose. Perhaps it was jealousy over Leta, or perhaps it was something else altogether.

Ramesses' words fell heavy on Charles. He wanted to be defiant and question Ramesses — perhaps for the same reasons that he had questioned Osiris — but the memory of what Osiris had done to him was paralysing any action. He didn't want that to happen again. Why didn't the real world work the same way that his interactions with his family had? Why didn't he ever get what he wanted? He had everything he could ever hope for here, and he had just been told he could continue to enjoy it. But it was too much, too soon, too everything — he didn't deserve any of it, and he didn't know what to do with it now that he had it. His head was spinning, from the berries and the gravity of thinking back to Osiris. Charles just kept staring blankly at a piece of wall in these great chambers, showing only small signs of stress as his mind reeled and wallowed in big stress and he tried desperately to get himself under control.

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charles was vulnerable. ramesses let him sit alone in a lengthening silence until at last he pressed close once more, chest against the shoulders of the other man as he moved behind. not a push of dominance, but one of lure and courtships; his lips pressed against the outside of the other ear.
"what happened then?"
pharaoh expected resistance —
"did you want this iteration of Osiris? did He desire you? did you make this known, charles," ramesses breathed, and now he did prevail upon the prince, seeking to push him down toward the eating-mats.

Charles found himself longing for the return of the touch, and when it came, a shiver ran down his spine involuntarily. The berries made him weak, and though he had stopped eating them by now he could feel them further taint his mind. What happened then — he didn't want to think about it. It had been so embarrassing. He could never tell anyone, let alone this mighty Pharaoh. He pushed me to the ground, Charles said, clearly involuntarily. He wasn't sure why he said it. Perhaps because he was afraid to lose Ramesses' affinity and touch once again. It wasn't a lie, but Charles willfully omitted the part where he pissed himself. He didn't want anyone to ever know about it. The secret would die with him, as it had died with Osiris.

Ramesses' further questions made Charles even more on edge, and it showed. His muscles were tense. But Ramesses had him by the proverbial balls and the berries further weakened Charles' willpower in the moment. He hated me, he admitted bitterly, his gaze hardening for a moment. Ramesses already knew, and yet Charles could not say the words. I wanted him. Instead, he let the insinuation of his desire for Osiris linger in the air as he said: I never told him.

charles had hated Osiris.
he pushed me to the ground and then naught else brought pharaoh to wondering. suppose there was more; suppose the reason for this untoward hatred of a god was because said god had slaked his fill from charles' body.
it was as good a reason as any to hate. it was why ramesses himself did not use force in his liasions. he wished to pursue and he wished to be worshipped. but why hate the one you had taken?
he passed his lips upon the other ear now, knowing the audits of a coyote to be quite sensitive. 
"the gods are fickle. tell Him now," pharaoh urged. "say that in this skin, Osiris was cruel to you. and ask for recompense."
if he was not pushed away he would let out just the tip of his tongue, caressing the inner shell of the nearest ear.

Charles didn't know what 'fickle' even meant. He was hesitating to ask, but before he could get to it, he was distracted by Ramesses' next words. Tell him now? But Osiris was dead. Charles had seen it happen himself. He was gone forever. Would he return? In a different body? Was that what Ramesses was suggesting? Charles frowned and said, But he is not here. How can I ask him? And what should he ask? From context, Charles figured 'recompense' meant something like getting something back. Yet, Charles had provoked Osiris. Would it not be irrational and invoke further punishment to ask something back of a god who'd punished you for a bad thing you did? Yet a part of Charles wanted that punishment.

The touch to his ear distracted him, enticed him, turned him on, but the coywolf swallowed dryly, lost in his thoughts of Osiris, frozen in the moment; not leaning in nor resisting.

"but He is here. Osiris. not as he was to you. as He is in His godly form."
this was a moment for charles to come to ramesses' way of believing. and so the pharaoh stilled his touch and only lifted his chin, content to feel the presence of the deity as He came to hear their prayers.
"tell Osiris you wish to be made anew."