“Huh…?” It was difficult to focus, but I allowed myself to look at Thoth since he had moved to my thighs, slowly, oh so slowly, creeping upward where he had not yet written.
“Your poetry. You have come a long way since the boy who tried finding a romantic rhyme for fig.”
I suppressed a laugh, for I remembered that poem. It was the first one I had written about Meryt, wanting to confess my theft of his figs when we were boys. I never did confess, not until I knelt beneath his corpse. I never showed him the poem either, hating how it had turned out. One of the few sensible things that rhymed with fig wasbig, after all, and as an adolescent at the time, I easily could have gone the bawdy route.
Perhaps the reality was worse.
I wronged you once with an act of theft
But grew to adore you with all I had left
Your plump purple lips like the skin of a fig
And dark dazzling eyes so enchantingly big
I certainly hoped I’d gotten better since then.
“Your reunion poem needs work as well.”
“My what?” I was trying harder to focus, but I didn’t know what he meant. “I haven’t been writing any poem.”
“Haven’t you?” Thoth paused to meet my gaze.
“I… suppose I have thought about it.”
“With me, that is enough. The god of secrets knows all that is to come too.” Thoth returned to his work, leaving me much to think about—not that it was easy to think as he moved higher and higher between my thighs.
He had written on me everywhere else by now, even the tops of my hands and feet, but he was circling ever more center toward the most sensitive parts of me yet.
Surely, he wouldn’t—
Without pause, Thoth’s reed pen’s prickling continued onto my sac.
I whined, hips bucking up in answer, and cock curving evermore upright.
“Almost finished, and then I can help you with that,” his lyrical voice assured me.
I was certain that he would, but less certain of what came with it or afterward.
By the time Thoth was scrawling up the underside of my length, I was struggling to not tremble and disrupt the strokes of his pen. Unlike with the rest of me, writing on one side did not imprint the same words on the other, so when he reached my tip, he dipped the pen into my slit, mixing my prerelease with his never-ending ink, before he continued writing up the other side. It bounced into his strokes, completely independent of my attempts to keep still, but Thoth seemed undeterred and quickly finished at my base.
“There we are. You are complete. Now rise and move to the reflecting glass.”
Rise? It was not an easy task when a different part of me had already risen.
I struggled to obey, allowing myself to shudder and twitch now that he was done, and taking in gulps of breath to still my franticheart. My knees quaked as soon as my weight was placed upon my feet, but I made it as directed, step after step, to the glass with my double displayed in it.
As expected, I was utterly covered in hieroglyphics, like a human scroll, barely recognizable as myself. I had not known what to expect of the phrases Thoth had written, but in my wildest imaginings, it was not this.
Scared of being unworthy.
Frustrated with his lot in life.
Hates it when Meryt leaves a mess.
Loves watching another’s hands on Meryt’s skin.
Sometimes wants those others’ hands cut off.
