[ There's something frustratingly attractive about Shanks, even to the eye of a god who continues to proclaim himself not interested in men. He cannot place it.
Is it the red of his hair, so impossibly vibrant that he looks as though he could belong to Set? An adherent in vision that would be reviled and pursued to a bloody, painful end in the lands of Egypt — for some alluded-to relationship simply due to him being born a redhead. Might it be the strength of his body, maimed as he is and alive despite the crippling injury that robbed him of a dominant arm but not his strength? Something as simply as the physical shape of him, lean and strong and rounded in the pecs in a way that makes Set's mouth water and his fingers ache to sink into soft muscle and rake nails down the line of his belly to those sharp hipbones, perhaps?
Or his strange personality, indulgent and witty. Willing to give and give, so very hungry to starve himself for some distant image that Set knows exists, but does not know the complexity of. They're a little similar, the two of them, in that regard. Distant-visioned individuals willing to use externally-devised reputations to accomplish a difficult task. He sees a bit of himself in Shanks's acceptance of people's opinions of him, the way he allows them to shape his myth, and unveils himself only to those he deems trustworthy enough to share in the strained reality. ]
I have seen it, too.
[ Men at war, hungry for female contact. For their wives and intended ones, aching to their core with yearning both platonic and sexual. He's seen men turn to one another for something, and has never thought ill of them; it wasn't for him, loyal as he was to Nephthys and his family, but it wasn't wrong. Even if he saw himself in the conquering half, and not the submitting half of the pairings. ( Even if he'd never allow himself to enjoy submission, because it was not a man's role to be underneath another man. ) ( Not until the raw hedonism of that foreigner, careless with his cock and hungry for sex that held no room for thoughts. Only spine-melting pleasure, given and taken alike. )
Maybe Shanks is a little like that, and it eases Set's mind. That he isn't dreaming of using intimacy to force the god of war into a position of weakness, but seeking only the closeness of bodies. Set comes alive with heat, radiating from his belly to his hips and seizing the long line of his throat; his mouth dry, tongue wet as he licks into Shanks's mouth and traces the edge of his teeth. A little desperate, his fingers wrapped around the length of the man's cock, pressing it to his thigh as he pets and strokes its hardness. ]
— I have experience with a woman whom I was devoted to in marriage for centuries. [ He answers Shanks's question about making him shiver with innocent honesty, perceiving it as an equally-honest inquiry. Seems he responds well to earnest individuals, honesty and a little bit of lazy sweetness. ] Men do not usually want me to shiver under their hands.
[ They want him to break. ]
What you did when I was gone... do it again. Show me.
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returns to rp with a fucking novel-length tag also cw some toxic masculinity thoughts
Is it the red of his hair, so impossibly vibrant that he looks as though he could belong to Set? An adherent in vision that would be reviled and pursued to a bloody, painful end in the lands of Egypt — for some alluded-to relationship simply due to him being born a redhead. Might it be the strength of his body, maimed as he is and alive despite the crippling injury that robbed him of a dominant arm but not his strength? Something as simply as the physical shape of him, lean and strong and rounded in the pecs in a way that makes Set's mouth water and his fingers ache to sink into soft muscle and rake nails down the line of his belly to those sharp hipbones, perhaps?
Or his strange personality, indulgent and witty. Willing to give and give, so very hungry to starve himself for some distant image that Set knows exists, but does not know the complexity of. They're a little similar, the two of them, in that regard. Distant-visioned individuals willing to use externally-devised reputations to accomplish a difficult task. He sees a bit of himself in Shanks's acceptance of people's opinions of him, the way he allows them to shape his myth, and unveils himself only to those he deems trustworthy enough to share in the strained reality. ]
I have seen it, too.
[ Men at war, hungry for female contact. For their wives and intended ones, aching to their core with yearning both platonic and sexual. He's seen men turn to one another for something, and has never thought ill of them; it wasn't for him, loyal as he was to Nephthys and his family, but it wasn't wrong. Even if he saw himself in the conquering half, and not the submitting half of the pairings. ( Even if he'd never allow himself to enjoy submission, because it was not a man's role to be underneath another man. ) ( Not until the raw hedonism of that foreigner, careless with his cock and hungry for sex that held no room for thoughts. Only spine-melting pleasure, given and taken alike. )
Maybe Shanks is a little like that, and it eases Set's mind. That he isn't dreaming of using intimacy to force the god of war into a position of weakness, but seeking only the closeness of bodies. Set comes alive with heat, radiating from his belly to his hips and seizing the long line of his throat; his mouth dry, tongue wet as he licks into Shanks's mouth and traces the edge of his teeth. A little desperate, his fingers wrapped around the length of the man's cock, pressing it to his thigh as he pets and strokes its hardness. ]
— I have experience with a woman whom I was devoted to in marriage for centuries. [ He answers Shanks's question about making him shiver with innocent honesty, perceiving it as an equally-honest inquiry. Seems he responds well to earnest individuals, honesty and a little bit of lazy sweetness. ] Men do not usually want me to shiver under their hands.
[ They want him to break. ]
What you did when I was gone... do it again. Show me.