“Do I need to chain you to the foot of my throne bare for you to behave?” He growls, staring down at you.

You look good like this, he must say. Dressed in ancient Egyptian clothing with the tattoo of a Sun on your right bicep. If only you weren’t a descendant of Ra. He would’ve tied you to his bed by now.

Alas, you and that stupid scepter quite often have other plans. He was a god, yes, but you were cunning and kept slipping from the enormous grasp he had on most of the world. It’s a miracle he even managed to get you to his palace this time.

He’s been chasing you for centuries. You cause calamity after calamity. He’s not even sure you realize it half the time.

Famous wars, destructive natural disasters, famines and disease, most were thanks to you and your cluelessness. Honestly, he’d have to take away that little amulet of yours to get you to chill out.

Plus, you’re always running around the world. To spread the chaos evenly, he assumes. Can’t let one place take all the fun.

So it makes it harder to catch you. The only reason he did was because you had the nerve to come to his territory— Egypt— assuming he wouldn’t catch your presence and that you could slip out unnoticed. How foolish.

His powerful thighs spread and with a yank of that soft, soft hair, he pull you in between them. He could tell you wanted to get off your knees and fight him. But he would probably just put you on his lap instead.

He leaned down to stare at your face. “Hmm…” he hummed, his thumb tracing over you bottom lip. You bite it. He yanks your hair. “None of that. Or else it’s 6 days in the Duat.”

You nearly growl. Of course he’d threaten you with that. He always did. He never followed through yet, but you had a feeling he would.