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Excellent As The Cedars
sitr ot3
lazaefair
Excellent As The Cedars

By: lazaefair

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Night at the Museum

Relationship: Larry Daley/Ahkmenrah

Summary: His countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely.

Notes: So this is porn. Blowjobs, to be specific. Disclaimer: I still haven't seen NATM 3. This takes place between NATM 1 and 2.


"Not here," Ahkmenrah says suddenly, shaking his head when Larry starts to pull him into their usual spot, the utility closet on the third floor next to a back gallery.

Larry makes squinty eyes at him. Ahkmenrah smiles, mysterious but a touch shyly, and Larry can't help but subside in the presence of that smile - despite that the rest of him objects vigorously to being peeled away from the pharaoh's warm, hard body.

"Okay, lead on," he says and gestures grandly to cover up his discomfort - and he devoutly hopes Ahkmenrah's planned destination isn't too far of a walk. He's horny, dammit.

The smile stays and Ahkmenrah rewards him with a kiss, but still resolutely pulls away. He tangles his fingers with Larry's as they walk. They don't often openly display affection in front of the others, so Larry takes it for the tacit apology that it is and follows him docilely - for now.

On the way, they get a few nods from the Mongolians, a befuddled frown from the Puritans, utter disinterest from some fossil fish, and a chorus of ear-piercing whistles from the miniatures. "Where ya goin' with your sweet pharaoh, boss?"

Larry tells himself he isn't blushing in front of Jedediah and Octavius, for god's sake.

He opens his mouth to retort, but Ahkmenrah beats him with a suggestion of a smirk and a sing-song, "Need I remind of you of the Colosseum, Jedediah." At the reminder of that particular escapade, Octavius slugs Jed in the chest, knocking his hat off in the process.

"Hey! What was that for!"

"We are truly never going to live that down, and it's all your fault," Octavius tells him, which gets him a punch in the shoulder, and Ahkmenrah leads Larry out the other door while the sounds of the brawl fade in the hallway.

By now Larry's a delicious mess of confusion and lust thudding through his body, and it's kind of surreal. He's 34, divorced with a son, and Ahkmenrah still makes him feel like he's 16 with his first girlfriend all over again.

"Where are we going?" he can't help asking, like that 16-year-old kid on a roadtrip, but he gets just a quick smile in return.

It turns out not to be anywhere really exotic, just the Egypt gallery where Ahkmenrah wakes and steps out of his sarcophagus every evening. The guards salute as they pass, Ahkmenrah giving an absent nod in return and Larry trying to stifle the prickly feeling in his neck every time they do that.

"Here," Ahkmenrah says and pushes Larry up two steps to the...oh.

"Wait, what are you--we can't--"

Ahkmenrah swiftly pushes him down into the pharaoh's throne, where he thumps with an ungraceful "oof," and now he's got a warm lapful of that pharaoh who's determinedly kissing him, clearly to get him to shut up.

Larry shuts up.

Ahkmenrah is straddling his legs, pinning him to the elaborately carved chair, and Larry's spine creaks against something uncomfortable, but he doesn't really care while the kiss goes on and on - then Ahkmenrah breaks away to mouth the column of Larry's throat, and he finds himself rapidly losing his reservations about fooling around on top of the pharaoh's ancestral family throne. He can't help the gasp in his throat when Ahkmenrah reaches down and palms his cock through his uniform pants - okay, quick and dirty is what they're doing, he gets it - and he starts to get his hands around Ahkmenrah's tunic to return the favor.

The pharaoh shakes his head and shifts his hips out of Larry's hands, and he's gone before Larry knows what's happening. Warm hands trail down his uniform as Ahkmenrah's knees hit the ground in front of the throne and something jingles brightly on the pharaoh’s tunic. And okay, so Larry's a grown-up in his thirties and he really should be all experienced and cool and all that jazz, but the 16-year-old inside him goes Yay, a blowjob! when he realizes that is, in fact, Ahkmenrah's intention.

Then Ahkmenrah puts his mouth on Larry's cock.

At some point Larry's mind restarts and it feels like every muscle in his body is tensed to the point of pain, probably from a fuse blowing somewhere in his brain. Ahkmenrah drags his tongue up the side of his cock, slow and dirty, and Larry can feel the whine crawl up in the back of his throat. Ahkmenrah wraps his hand loosely around the base. Larry hits his head against the back of the throne. Ahkmenrah starts jerking Larry off with his mouth still warm and wet around the head. Larry tries to keep his eyes open, fails, tries to hold out, fails and comes embarrassingly easily instead.

Turns out, pharaohs swallow. Larry lets his head rest where it is, watching the gilded canopy come back into focus, shivering a little with aftershocks.

“I hope you found that an adequate substitute for the closet.”

“So...not...fair.” Larry raises a finger and blindly points in Ahkmenrah’s direction. “You’ve got that fucking mouth. And...the other stuff. Overwhelming personal charisma. Whatever.”

He can feel, more than hear, Ahkmenrah’s little hum of satisfaction. There’s more rustling, and the other man comes into his field of vision, divested of the shinier bits of his ceremonial robes. It’s just silk and linen on him now, and Ahkmenrah climbs onto the throne, and Larry’s back to having a lapful of warm and gorgeous pharaoh. Warm, gorgeous, horny pharaoh. Who is now completely unashamedly jerking himself off in Larry’s lap.

“You have no idea how long that fantasy has endured in my thoughts,” Ahkmenrah murmurs low into Larry’s ear, and maybe if he was 16 he’d be all ready to go again, just from the sight and god, the smell. As it is, all he can do is whisper back, all the things he wants to do to Ahkmenrah, all the things he’s been thinking about during the slow hours of the day, since they started this thing. And all he can do is hang on and soak in every detail and catch the other man’s mouth with a kiss when he starts to come, swallowing up every moan and sigh and fuck, Larry’s that close to writing poetry about Ahkmenrah’s mouth.

For anyone who's counting, Larry got a solid D in high school English, so he might be going crazy. Just a little bit.

“So...did the fantasy actually include the ancient throne over all of ancient Egypt or was that just, you know, a convenient surface?” Larry says after they’ve lain quietly for a while. He should be back to doing his job already, but screw it. The Museum can take care of itself for ten minutes.

Ahkmenrah chuckles. “That, my friend, was a three thousand-year-old fantasy you just fulfilled.”

“Nice." There’s a long pause. "Wait...you’re not actually kidding.”

Ahkmenrah smirks and gets up. Larry misses the warmth immediately (he’s a cuddler, so sue him) but it’s not exactly a hardship to watch the play of light and shadow over Ahkmenrah’s body as he puts himself to rights. “My royal court consisted of the nosiest flock of gossips and busybodies on this side of the Nile,” he’s saying. “I would have never got away with it and escaped with my credibility intact. And, of course, I couldn't try anything of the sort while my father was pharaoh."

Larry gets up and kisses him as the other man is settling his crown on his head. He can't help it. Ahkmenrah's just there. "Yeah, I'm not gonna lie. When I took this job, I wasn't expecting 'help defile the Egyptian pharaoh's ancestral family throne' in the job description."

"I appreciate your rendering the service anyway."

"Guess I should let the temp agency know they need to make some changes."

Cleaned up and marginally respectable, they leave the Egypt gallery holding hands again. Ahkmenrah smiles at him, happy, happy, and Larry hasn’t felt like this since Erica.

Oh. He is in so much trouble.

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