Chapter Text
Sneaking out of the palace is not something the Crown Prince of Egypt usually does.
His life isn’t only his. He knows that better than anyone else. And not only is his life not only his, it is also more important than anyone else’s. As such, he always has at least one person following him. A servant. Security. It is a rare occurrence if his father lets him stroll around the gardens with his friends and his friends only.
The Crown Prince of Egypt understands his role very well—he will one day be crowned Pharaoh. He will rule Upper and Lower Egypt once his father passes, or if he is physically unable to. He knows this. He understands his duty very well and he has always behaved accordingly. He attended all his classes and did wonderfully in them and his teachers were delighted by how fast he learned, because he seemed hungry for knowledge, seemed eager to become bigger, important. He might have been impatient, and it showed plenty of times in how he behaved, but it was a trait hard to change. He had been born for something bigger than studying. He had been born to sit at the golden throne. He just physically couldn’t wait for it, the impatience running through his veins into his fingers when he was sitting at his desk, surrounded by his teachers and million servants, each tending to one thing, clicking the reed pen continuously against the wooden table.
The Crown Prince of Egypt understood his role very well and he had done well and learnt everything that had to be learnt. Yet, his father rarely let him in the political affairs, and being unable to help, to do anything actually productive was driving him mad with resentment. Could he be blamed? Resentment was the only natural result of the treatment he received from his father, or the lack thereof.
But he didn’t want to resent his father. He understood the Pharaoh was always busy—he had no time for his son, not anymore, not now that he was grown and could take care of himself. He loved his father and always tried to be understanding, and so he did not want to resent him or, worse, grow to detest him. Yet, he couldn’t help it boiling in his veins when he tried to speak to his father in his office and he was rudely dismissed by him, and the only thing the prince could do was to swallow his pride and anger and turn back on his heels, pretending his father’s actions were not digging the metaphorical grave that their relationship had become.
Still, the Crown Prince of Egypt did not want hate to fester in his heart, because he wanted to be a good ruler in the future. Hatred was out of the picture. He had to be magnanimous, and no magnanimous king held any type of hatred in his heart.
He wanted some time alone. He felt, if only he could have some time completely alone, his heart would calm. He would look at things differently and he would be kinder to his father and their relationship could change and be like it used to. … But perhaps it was too naïve to wish to go back now. In the end, he was no longer a child—there was no way his father would treat him as such, not when he was expected to be Pharaoh; there was no way his father would embrace him as he used to when he was a child, because he was grown and expected to be the Pharaoh and pharaohs didn’t need love. If they did, perhaps his father would have appointed a Royal Wife already, instead of calling a woman from the harem whenever he was bored or needed to unwind. But he hadn’t, he had only properly married his mother, and she had passed after giving birth and his father had never remarried, so the prince supposed that, in the end, pharaohs could live without love.
The Crown Prince of Egypt didn’t like dwelling in such thoughts, and so he didn’t.
He only thought that he needed time alone. No servants following. No security. Real time alone with his thoughts so he could control his feelings of impotence and kill the hatred in his heart properly.
Since his father would not let him step outside of his chambers without vigilance, he had to devise a plan to sneak out without being seen. Just because if he heard even one more servant by his side politely asking, “Is there anything I can do for your Majesty the Prince?” every so often, he’d lash out and hurt someone. Seriously.
It was paradoxical, but despite yearning and daydreaming of sitting on that throne, he was sick of the palace and everyone dwelling within its walls.
The plan devised was simple: he would wait until everyone thought he was fast asleep—he had a servant whose only role was to check on him every thirty minutes after he had gone to bed to make sure he’d fallen asleep, but afterwards the servant would retreat until the morning, when it was time to wake him up—and he would jump out of the window. It was a first floor, an easy jump for a young man like him. Of course, he would take a cloak with him so as to disguise himself a little, in case there were many curious eyes outside.
And then he’d walk.
He’d walk and walk. Perhaps in a comfortable silence inside his mind. Or perhaps while he thought of how to let go of his pent-up anger. But he’d walk and walk until he either found an answer to his problems or until he grew tired.
Somehow, that’s how he found himself in front of a brothel.
He hadn’t planned this part. The lights of the candles in front of the otherwise ugly structure had beckoned him. They whispered, “enter, come in, have some fun,” in a menacing voice. It was convincing enough. But he didn’t dare actually enter. Or knock. Did he have to knock?
Suddenly, an inebriated man exited the brothel. He was screaming incoherent words at the woman who was very obviously sick of putting up with his behaviour but couldn’t do much besides doing as he was told: “Get out of here, you disgusting pig.”
Once the man had been thrown out, he staggered away, cursing under his breath. The prince looked at the scene before him with disgust for the man but curiosity for the woman whom he had only seen for a split second.
He breathed in—deeply, as deep as he could—and stepped forward. The door was rather flimsy under his strong hands when he opened it and went in.
He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what he was met with.
He was used to having all eyes on him, and when he entered and he found that no one even looked his way, he felt out of place. So out of place. He could still run away. He had only taken a step forward, but… The prince wasn’t supposed to be a coward. And he needed a break. A drink wouldn’t hurt.
Despite his usual confidence, he was shy. He found himself an empty table in a corner and sat, waiting. He looked here and there and he felt overwhelmed at the scenes he had to witness, although they weren’t all that scandalous. Granted, there were private rooms for certain activities, but the prostitutes weren’t shy to show skin in the main room, or to dance for the customers. Some even touched the clients while others looked.
Little to no dignity. The more he looked, the more he felt out of place, the more he wanted to leave.
He was wrong—that place wasn’t for him. He didn’t belong there. He was too much of a virgin to… do anything. But at the same time his hormones were screaming, and he certainly liked some of the things he was seeing. Should he… approach someone? Was that how it worked?
The next time he blinked, there was someone in front of him. A young boy. Perhaps his age.
He covered his chest with a big tray, but the prince could tell he was wearing clothes. Unlike the various women who wore little to nothing, or see-through dresses.
“Thirsty?” the boy asked, locking eyes with the prince, a little curious. The prince should have left some of his jewelry in the palace, he stood out, he realized just then.
Upon looking at him, the prince felt his throat barren at once. Thirsty was one way to put it. The boy in front of him was very pretty indeed. Gorgeous, his purple eyes glistened in the ugly, artificial light of the room.
The prince opened his lips to speak, but he was interrupted by a quiet laugh from the boy. “I’ll get you something to drink, handsome.”
Just like that, he disappeared from his sight. Had the thoughts that dwelled in the prince’s heart been too obvious? Perhaps the jewelry wasn’t the only reason why he stood out. Perhaps he was visibly shy.
Had he just been called handsome?
The prince fidgeted in his seat and looked at his hands, waiting, heart on his throat. He decided he’d ask that pretty server about the best woman they had there. A boy—a man—like him would understand what he wanted. Probably.
When the server came back, he left a drink in front of the prince. “Here you go, handsome.” Before the prince could reply, he followed up, “Are you alone? I could entertain you.”
His heart skipped a beat at the proposition. The implication.
The boy in front of him wasn’t simply a server. He was also a prostitute.
The prince looked around him and caught a glimpse of a few boys here and there, engaging in sexual misdeeds. He never thought…
The boy sank to his knees in front of the prince’s legs, tray forgotten on the table, and looked up at him with beautiful, bright eyes. A tentative finger caressed his leg, up and down, from his ankle to his knee. The prince gulped.
“You are wearing some expensive clothes,” the boy noted, voice showing a well-acted delight. “May I know the name of the man in front of me who looks like a god?”
“Atem,” the prince answered. He always gave his name away easily, far too easily, forgetting that people knew the prince’s name. He couldn’t just give it away. If there was someone who hadn’t seen him, who didn’t know how he physically looked, they’d certainly know him by his name.
The reaction from the boy was, then, unexpected. He laughed heartily, as if he had been told a joke, and repeated, “Atem?” (And the way he had pronounced his name had Atem’s heart squeezing in his chest.) “Like the prince?”
Atem tried to deviate the attention from him by asking the boy for his name. “What is your name?”
“Yugi,” he replied, ringing each syllable, elongating the u, his lips coming forward, kissy—inviting. “You can call me however you want, though.”
“I like Yugi.”
Yugi looked up at him, surprised, stopping the movement from his hand. As if the prince had just gone terribly out of script and Yugi wasn’t at all prepared for it and now he didn’t know what to say.
Atem merely stared, fascinated by his eyes.
“Well, Atem,” Yugi recovered, resuming the enticing movement with his finger. Up and down and down and up the prince’s leg. “Shall I look for a woman instead? I can tell it is your first time here. I know someone who will take very good care of you, hm?” The tracing of his finger stopped to ask the next question, “Say, are you a virgin?”
Atem’s face flushed almost instantly. Entering that place had definitely been a mistake. He wanted to run, but Yugi’s eyes kept him anchored to his seat.
Yugi laughed, promising, “There’s nothing wrong with it, darling. I’m just assessing your needs. You’re young, aren’t you?”
“Seventeen,” Atem decided to answer, a bit more carefully. Hopefully Yugi wouldn’t connect the dots—that the prince was named Atem and he was currently seventeen years old. He wanted to keep the fantasy that he was no one in there, just a customer. A lowly man who sought pleasure from strangers and was willing to pay for it. … It sounded better than being the prince. At least for a while.
“A seventeen year old as handsome as you… virgin? You look strong, too,” Yugi contemplated, raising an arm to touch Atem’s bicep under his black cloak. The muscle was hard under his hand. He liked it. “You could have anyone you wanted in all of Egypt.” A strange pause, as if he was meditating something. “Yet you are here. Why?”
Atem didn’t know how to answer that question, only knew that he had to lie. “Because I wanted to have sex.” It was why men went to brothels, right? It was a lie, but it was believable enough.
“Like I said, you could have anyone out there. Why a brothel?”
But Atem didn’t like interrogation. It felt too much like being in the palace, constantly questioned about what he did or did not do. Rage suddenly boiled in his veins and he snapped, “Do I pay you to ask questions or to entertain me? Do something useful with that mouth of yours, hm?”
“You haven’t paid anything yet and, truthfully, with that attitude, I won’t entertain you any further,” Yugi said easily, shrugging and raising to his feet. “Even if you offered me the Pharaoh’s throne.”
Atem did not like Yugi’s tone. Or the fact that he couldn’t get his way.
He took Yugi by the arm and yanked him back down to his knees. Yugi moaned in pain at the clash and glared at him.
“What do you think you are doing? Let go of me.” He struggled but it was futile. Atem was far stronger than him.
“I’ll pay for the best room you have, got it? I’ll pay double, or triple. But you will attend to me.”
With another yank, Atem got Yugi back on his feet. Then he let go.
Yugi caressed the skin Atem had gripped, looked back at him anxiously and began walking. Atem followed him—their height difference was minimal, with Atem being only slightly taller than him. Not that Atem needed any extra height to intimidate Yugi into doing anything he wanted, but he liked having that little advantage.
Atem followed Yugi through a series of narrow corridors towards the back of the building until they reached a door. Along the way, Atem had noticed that the private rooms did not have doors but curtains—this room and its door, in front of him, meant proper privacy. Luxury compared to the rest of the place, really.
Yugi knocked on the door and, when he received no answer, he opened it, letting Atem in. He followed Atem inside the room and closed the door.
The prince went straight to the bed and sat on it with his legs open. Yugi looked between Atem’s lap and his face. A little disgusted, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want a woman? I can get you the best one, I promise—”
“Don’t you work here?” Atem interrupted rudely, unfastening the cloak around his neck and letting it fall on the bed.
The sight of Atem, then, caught Yugi’s breath, and he struggled to answer correctly. “I do, but—”
“Then you shall please me. Or is that a problem?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you new here? Inexperienced?”
“That is laughable coming from a virgin,” Yugi huffed, feeling insulted. Sure, he hadn’t been in the business for long, but he was not new. Certainly not inexperienced, unlike the prideful man in front of him.
Atem rolled his eyes. Then, he ordered, “Get on your knees and please me. I don’t have all night.”
Yugi considered his options. He could leave. He was not obligated to tend to all customers who asked for his services. He could say no. It would make Atem mad, sure, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Someone would kick him out of the establishment if it got physical.
Yugi could say no, yet there was a strange force coming from the man. He appeared powerful in his demeanour, and he was handsome. Really, it would be a pity to let such a man go.
… Plus, Yugi could do with some extra money. Atem looked rich. This was perfect, really.
Carefully, he put the door on the latch and walked towards Atem. His hard look had become lascivious as Yugi was approaching, and Yugi’s own gaze had softened by the time he was on his knees, between Atem’s legs.
Never once averting his eyes from Atem’s, Yugi’s hands traveled to his thighs, caressing in slow, circular motions. The skin was soft and warm, and Yugi tried hard to stay professional when he asked, “Hm, what shall I do with you today?” His hands ventured further up, caressing Atem’s hips and causing his breathing to become shallow. “Say, would you like me to keep talking? May I tell you just how handsome you are? Would you like that?”
Yugi had mastered the art of speaking sensually, and so he wasn’t surprised at the reactions he was getting from Atem. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got Atem hard just from his voice and carefully chosen words.
Atem was used to praise in the palace. No matter what he did, there would always be someone praising him, telling him how handsome he was or how delicious he smelled. The servants always had sweet words for him, but Atem knew they weren’t genuine. Those people worked for him, after all—there was no way they meant those words, even if they were true. Sure, Yugi was being paid to do those things to him, too, but at least he was convincing.
This was different, anyway. Atem hadn’t had the possibility to know a woman, since the harem belonged to the Pharaoh and his father had strictly prohibited him from weaving any kind of personal relationship with a woman, stating that he would have plenty of time in his life to enjoy the physical pleasures of such partnerships. He was expected to wait until he became Pharaoh, for some obscure reason Atem couldn’t understand, because he wasn’t buying his father’s excuses.
He had been scared to contradict him, though, which was why Atem could count with the fingers of one hand his female friends. Strictly friends, because he had forbidden himself of ever thinking of them as anything more, in fear that his father would perceive the feelings brewing in his heart.
The Crown Prince of Egypt had to be wary when it came to the women in his life—but not so much the men. Yet, he had never thought of them as anything more than companions, equals. He had never thought of them as a substitute for women.
Until fifteen minutes ago, he supposed, when he met Yugi.
Atem liked his voice, the words he chose to speak to him. Kind, submissive. Atem doubted Yugi knew that he was the prince, but he treated him as if he were a god anyway.
Atem liked feeling like a god.
“Keep speaking,” Atem commanded, voice dropping an octave and certainly feeling something in his dick already. At this rate, he was certain Yugi would get him fully hard without even touching him.
“Oh, so your Majesty likes praise,” Yugi purred, his hands still feeling the hard muscles in Atem’s thighs. Atem had to remember that Yugi probably spoke to all customers like that—he wasn’t special. Yugi knew nothing of where he came from. Still, he couldn’t help but get warm and fuzzy at the title. “I bet you like feeling worshipped, huh? You like having someone on their knees, all for you… It makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it?”
Atem’s hardened arousal, visibly tenting his shendyt now, answered on his behalf. Yugi smiled, still locking eyes with Atem, a hand wandering to his crotch.
“You shall be my king tonight, hm? My god. My Pharaoh.”
Atem exhaled a shaky breath at the title, anxiety and excitement boiling in equal parts in his veins, his heart stopping briefly upon feeling Yugi’s hand on his member, faint but certainly there.
“Let’s see what you’ve got here, hm?” Yugi cooed, pushing away Atem’s shendyt and looking away from Atem’s eyes for the first time. Looking at what was in front of him now though, he stopped. Atem was big, but he couldn’t let his façade slip. He had to stay in character. He was working, after all. “You’re so big. I wonder, are you sensitive, too?”
Yugi recovered from his brief faux pas smoothly, if he said so himself. His hand didn’t waiver when a finger caressed the tip of Atem’s cock. He received a faint twitch in response, which encouraged him to let his finger travel downwards, tracing the shaft delicately. His finger wandered further down the base, giving the same treatment to the balls.
Atem began leaking almost instantly. It was truly a sight that had Yugi’s mouth watering.
Then, Yugi decided he would pretend to be inexperienced. If he didn’t, if he put all his knowledge to use, Atem would surely come in seconds. A virgin like him was not ready for just what his mouth could do. So, Yugi would pretend to be inexperienced and cute and use his hand instead, only licking here and there. That’d be enough.
Yugi used the precum leaking from Atem to aid his movements. He wrapped his hand around the length and felt its power, the throbbing of Atem’s pulse. It was difficult for Yugi to think clearly when he was starting to get aroused himself. He usually didn’t have this problem, but then again he usually didn’t have clients like Atem. His usual clients were… How could Yugi put it? Normal. They were common people in comparison to Atem. Sure, Yugi was just playing a script when he had said he’d treat Atem like a god, but he was starting to feel like the man in front of him was indeed a god. The power he exuded, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, even the way he breathed. There was something about this man and Yugi wasn’t sure he wanted to learn of his secrets.
Yugi licked his lips and started stroking Atem. He couldn’t dwell on personal feelings. Personal feelings were out of the picture when he was at work. So what if Atem was handsome and mysterious? It was none of Yugi’s business.
Yugi’s gaze averted back to Atem’s face, and he found that it would be real hard—if not impossible—to remain totally indifferent to his personal feelings, because Atem was looking down on him, lip worried between his teeth, breath ragged, and Yugi was cursing the day he promised himself he would never kiss his clients.
Focus, Yugi. Stroke him slowly—just like that. Atem’s breath hitches and he makes a beautiful growling sound in the back of his throat. He is intent on not letting any sound past his lips, but Yugi wants to hear him, wants to know if he is really enjoying what he is doing, and so Yugi brings his lips closer to the tip, and when he speaks against it, it sends a shiver throughout Atem’s body.
“You feel so good on my hand. I’m sure you taste just as delicious. May I taste you, my Pharaoh?”
“You may,” Atem conceded after a second. He was visibly affected by Yugi’s words, and it made Yugi bold.
Yugi stuck out his tongue, pressing it against the slit. He felt the cock twitching in his hand and Atem’s breath stopping. Locking eyes with him while he had him on his tongue was making Yugi all warm inside. His lower belly tightened and he suddenly became all too aware of his own erection. He wrapped his lips around Atem in order to push his own thoughts away, but it only worked because Atem suddenly spoke.
“Are you holding back, Yugi? Suck it like you mean it.”
His voice was hoarse, tainted by pleasure. A second afterwards, Yugi felt Atem’s strong hand against his cheek. Only for a moment did Yugi think Atem was caressing him, but it must have been his imagination because Atem’s hand roughly gripped his hair and pushed his face all the way down.
If Yugi gagged it was only because he wasn’t expecting that. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected Atem to do anything at all. Certainly not to take the reins of the situation. He was there to be pleased—Yugi was in charge of his pleasure. But clearly Atem disagreed, he was dissatisfied with Yugi’s performance and that’s why he had decided to act. Yugi would forgive him, just this one time. Because he prided himself in doing a good job.
After Yugi had swallowed him whole, Atem kept him pressed there—just a moment. Then, with the same roughness, he yanked Yugi away.
Yugi, who had become all too unaware of his body, of his breath, finally breathed out. It came out shaky; he was drooling.
“Your Pharaoh will feed you with his seed, so make sure you swallow it all.”
Just like that, Yugi was shoved down again. More prepared this time, he didn’t gag, but it was still too much—Atem was too much, too big; and just like he had warned, Atem came down Yugi’s throat, his cock twitching, and a low moan that Yugi found too captivating for his own good escaped Atem’s lips.
With a softer motion, he pulled Yugi away after using him, a soft pop separating them completely. Yugi sat on his heels wondering what had just happened, and brought a hand to his lips. Nothing remained of Atem, and he distantly wished he could have actually tasted him. He spaced out thinking such thoughts.
If Yugi was brought back to reality it was because Atem let his body fall on the bed. Yugi noted his chest, heaving, strong. Atem hid his flushed face with an arm, and only when he had regained his breath, he rummaged through his clothes.
Yugi only watched, too dazed to do anything or to speak. Atem pulled out an amethyst stone from a little elegant pouch he was carrying. It was a bright purple and carved in it was Osiris’ dragon, eating its own tail.
Atem offered the stone to Yugi when he sat up.
“Your payment,” he announced.
Atem’s voice was distant, and it made Yugi look him in the eye instead of the stone he was offering him. Still, Yugi held out a hand, and Atem dropped the stone in it. Yugi looked at it for a split second before looking back at Atem, but in that split second Atem had already put on his cloak, gotten up and opened the door, leaving Yugi behind in the room, kneeling and thoroughly confused.
As confused as he was, though, it wasn’t like he could run after Atem.
Because Atem was a client and he was just a prostitute.
Yet, looking at the amethyst closely… Where had Atem gotten it from? Purple gems weren’t exactly common nowadays, nor easy to get.
Still staring at the precious gem, he got on his feet and made his way to the main hall, where he overheard the girls gossipping, “Didn’t that man that just left look exactly like the prince…?”