Chapter 1: The Forbidden Touch at the Tomb’s Threshold
The air on the mountain’s south face tasted of wet stone and secrets. Ned Malone wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers leaving smudges on the notebook he hadn’t written in for hours. What was there to report? Professor loses mind, drags reporter to nowhere. Film at eleven.
Then he saw it.
It wasn’t a cave. It was a wound in the rock, a vertical slit shimmering with an oily, iridescent light that seemed to drink the jungle sun. The edges weren’t rough; they were carved into precise, angular patterns that hurt his eyes to follow. A low hum vibrated in his molars.
“Challenger!” he called out, but his voice was swallowed by the dense foliage.
He was alone. Summerlee had gone back to camp with a fever, Roxton was tracking a potential game trail, and Challenger was… somewhere, shouting about tectonic plates. This was his chance. Not for a story, but for a moment that belonged entirely to him, before duty and expectation pulled him back to London.
He stepped through the shimmer.
The humidity vanished. The jungle sounds cut off as if a door had slammed. Inside, the air was cool, dry, and carried the scent of ancient dust and something else—sandalwood, maybe, and beeswax. Light filtered from the portal, illuminating a short passage that opened into a chamber. His flashlight beam cut through the gloom, revealing walls covered in faded, intricate murals. Kings in headdresses. Strange, star-like maps.
And in the center, on a raised stone slab, lay a man.
Ned’s breath lodged in his throat. This wasn’t a skeleton, not a desiccated mummy. He was pristine. A tall, powerfully built man with skin the rich, deep brown of the earth outside. He wore a linen kilt, and his chest was bare, every muscle defined as if carved from polished wood. A simple gold circlet rested on his brow. His face was regal, handsome in a way that was almost unsettling, with a strong jaw and full lips. He looked like he was sleeping.
A stupid, reckless impulse took hold. Ned reached out, his reporter’s curiosity overriding every instinct of self-preservation. His fingertips brushed the gold band.
The man’s eyes opened.
They were dark, intelligent, and utterly disoriented. They focused on Ned with a force that felt physical. The man sat up in one fluid, powerful motion, the muscles in his abdomen and shoulders rippling. Ned stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“Who disturbs the rest of Prince Apep?” The voice was a deep baritone, textured with disuse, yet it held an undeniable authority. It echoed slightly in the tomb.
“I… I’m Ned. Ned Malone.” He swallowed, his mouth dry. “You speak English?”
“I speak the tongue of the men who left me here,” Apep said, his gaze sweeping the chamber with a look of profound disdain. “Trappers. Cowards. They feared my claim to the golden city.” He swung his legs off the slab, his bare feet touching the stone floor without a sound. He stood, towering over Ned by a full head. “How long?”
“How long since what?”
“Since the seal was set upon this tomb.”
Ned’s mind raced. The carvings, the style… “Three hundred years. Maybe more.”
Apep went very still. A flicker of something—pain, rage, immense loss—passed behind his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by a sharp, assessing look. “And you are not with them. You are different.” He took a step closer. Ned could smell him now—that sandalwood scent, mixed with the clean, salty smell of skin. “Your eyes hold curiosity, not greed.”
“I’m a reporter. I’m here with an expedition. We’re exploring the plateau.”
“A scribe.” Apep nodded as if that explained everything. He began to move, pacing the small chamber with the restless energy of a caged predator. His body was a marvel of coordination, every movement economical and graceful. Ned found he couldn’t look away. The way the faint light caught the oil on his shoulders, the shift of muscle along his spine… He felt a hot, familiar jolt of attraction, one he immediately tried to shove down, to bury under a mountain of professional detachment. It was useless.
“You are far from your home, Ned Malone,” Apep said, stopping suddenly. He was close again, too close. “You seek stories. I can give you a story that would make your name echo through the ages.”
“El Dorado?” Ned breathed the myth.
Apep’s smile was brilliant and knowing. “You know the name they gave it. We called it Ziongu, the place where the sun rests. It is real. It is my birthright. And I must return.” He leaned in, his intensity a palpable force. “The men who left me here took the key—a jade pectoral. I can feel its call, but I cannot pass the valley guardians without it. Your expedition… you have maps, tools. You can help me find it.”
“Why would I do that?” Ned managed. His pulse was jumping in his wrist. He was acutely aware of the heat radiating from Apep’s body.
“Because you are bored.” Apep stated it as simple fact. “You chase facts for others, but you hunger for an experience that is your own. I see it. You stand at a threshold.” His hand came up, not in threat, but with a shocking gentleness. His fingers, warm and slightly rough, grazed the line of Ned’s jaw. A touch so deliberate it stole the air from Ned’s lungs. “Do not retreat back into a world that is too small for you.”
Ned shivered. The touch was electric, a current that bypassed all his carefully constructed walls. It wasn’t just the attraction, though that was a part of it, a dizzying, terrifying part. It was the recognition. This centuries-lost prince had looked at him for five minutes and seen the restless, conflicted heart of him. The truth he barely admitted to himself: that he felt more alive in this strange, terrifying tomb than he ever had in a London newsroom.
The touch lingered for a heartbeat longer, then Apep lowered his hand, his expression turning pragmatic. “Help me, Ned Malone. Guide me through this new world to find what was stolen. In return, I will show you Ziongu. A paradise of knowledge and wealth. Your story would be our story.”
Footsteps and Challenger’s booming voice echoed faintly from outside the portal. “Malone! Where the devil have you gotten to?”
Reality rushed back in. His colleagues, his job, the expected narrative of his life. He looked at Apep, at the confident set of his shoulders, the promise in his eyes. It was madness. It was treason to the expedition.
But as he met that dark, waiting gaze, Ned knew with terrifying clarity that he had already made his choice the moment he’d stepped through the shimmering rock.
“They can’t see you. Not yet.” His voice was low, urgent. “Stay here, stay hidden. I’ll come back at dusk with supplies. We’ll… we’ll figure it out.”
Prince Apep’s smile returned, softer this time, triumphant. He gave a single, regal nod. “I have waited three hundred years, scribe. I can wait until sunset.”
Ned fled, scrambling back through the iridescent portal, bursting into the blinding green and steam of the jungle just as Professor Challenger rounded the path.
“There you are, my boy! Thought we’d lost you. Seen anything of note?”
Ned’s skin still burned where Apep had touched him. The scent of sandalwood clung to his clothes. He looked his bombastic employer in the eye, the lie forming as easily as a breath.
“Nothing, Professor. Just more rock.”
Before I could even begin, Professor Challenger told me about a strange woman they had encountered in the woods named Qinaq. Apparently, she told them the man trapped in the mountain was actually a barbaric giant who would destroy us all if he were released. I told them I had met Prince Apep and that he was a tall man, but not a giant as she had claimed. I was already enamored with the Prince, and the Professor could sense my disbelief. Suddenly, without warning, he knocked me unconscious! “It’s for his own good,” he said. “Ned obviously doesn’t believe the story, and we can’t take the risk that Qinaq is telling the truth.”
Darkness fell. Prince Apep (and his shape-shifting minion) waited for me in another enormous cave he had set up as a dwelling before becoming trapped in the mountain. I had not returned to the Prince as promised, and he became filled with rage.
Suddenly, his body began to grow! Within seconds, he grew Taller . . .
. . . and TALLER!
Prince Apep yelled in anger (his voice now deep and booming – the voice of a towering giant!)I am Prince Apep! Descendant of the gods! I will not be scorned!
He lifted me up near his face. I was very angry with you, little man. I thought you had lied to me. But now I see that you were held against your will . . . so it is your pathetic little friends who will taste my wrath.
As the giant held me tight in his grip, I pleaded with him not to hurt my friends. I explained that it was the stranger Qinaq who told us he was an evil and destructive giant. I swore to him that I never believed her story and that the others were simply trying to protect me.
He didn’t respond. Instead, his grip loosened, and he lowered me to the ground. I stumbled backward, my legs unsteady, as he loomed over me like a storm cloud. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a feral intensity.
“You are a fool, Ned Malone,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating through my bones. “But you are my fool. And I do not harm what is mine.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “You’re not going to hurt them?”
Apep’s massive chest expanded with a deep, rumbling sigh. “No. But they will fear me now.
They will know what happens to those who cross me.
Ned’s pulse pounded in his ears, his fingers twitching against the damp stone. The cave was vast—tall enough to swallow a cathedral, its walls lined with stalactites that glinted like fractured emeralds in the dim torchlight. The air smelled of wet earth and something older, something metallic and faintly electric, like the moment before a storm breaks. Apep stood at the far end of the cavern, his massive form casting shifting shadows across the walls. He was no longer the sleek, regal man from the tomb.
Now, Apep filled the space like a god who had stepped out of myth, his muscles straining against skin that seemed to ripple with an inner light. His kilt was gone, replaced by a rough, woven belt that held a curved dagger at his hip. His feet were bare, but his toes were long and delicate, almost feminine in their grace—unexpected, but not unwelcome. His voice, when he spoke again, was no longer a baritone, but a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated through Ned’s bones.
“You are lucky,” Apep said, his gaze sweeping over Ned with a mix of amusement and something darker. “I could have crushed your skull with my bare hands.
I could have torn your friends limb from limb and fed them to the jungle. But I didn’t. Because you, Ned Malone, are mine.” Apep took a step forward, his massive frame blocking out the torchlight. “You belong to me now. And I will have you.”
Ned’s heart hammered in his chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through his veins. He knew he should run, should scream, should do anything but stand there, rooted to the spot, his gaze locked with Apep’s. But he couldn’t move.
Apep’s words, his presence, held him captive. He felt a thrill of fear, yes, but also a heat that was undeniable, a pulse of desire that started in his belly and spread lower, making his cock twitch in his trousers. He was hard, aching, and he knew Apep could see it. The prince’s gaze flicked down, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
“You like that, don’t you?” Apep’s voice was a low growl, his accent thickening. “You like being mine.
You like knowing that I could snap you like a twig, but you’re not afraid. You’re fucking hard, Ned. You want this. You want me.”
Ned swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He could feel the heat of Apep’s gaze, could see the hunger in his eyes. He knew he should deny it, should push the giant away, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself taking a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Apep’s smile widened, feral and triumphant. “Good boy.” He reached out, his massive hand cupping Ned’s chin, tilting his head back.
Ned’s breath hitched as Apep’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip, the rough pad of his finger catching on the soft flesh. The giant’s touch was possessive, dominant, and it sent a jolt of heat straight to Ned’s cock. He could feel himself throbbing, aching against the confines of his trousers, the fabric growing damp with precome.
“You’re trembling,” Apep murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Ned’s entire body. “Are you scared, little scribe?”
Ned swallowed hard, his throat tight. “No.”
Apep’s chuckle was dark, amused.
His hand slid down Ned’s neck, fingers hooking into the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart. The heat radiating from his massive chest seared Ned’s skin, the scent of him—musky, earthy, and intoxicating—filling his lungs.
“Liar,” Apep growled, his breath hot against Ned’s lips. “You’re shaking like a leaf, and your cock’s pressing against your trousers like a fucking flagpole.”
Ned’s face burned. He was *hard*—painfully, embarrassingly hard—and there was no hiding it now.
Apep's gaze flicked down, his lips curling into a smirk. "Look at that. You're fucking *dripping* for me, Ned." His voice was a low growl, his accent thick and intoxicating.
Ned's cheeks flamed, but he couldn't look away. He was trapped in Apep's gaze, in the heat of his body, in the raw, primal power that radiated from him like a physical force. He felt small, insignificant, and utterly, completely *owned*.
Apep's hand left his chin, trailing down his neck, his chest, until it reached the waistband of his trousers.
Ned's breath hitched as Apep's fingers dipped beneath the fabric, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of his abdomen. He could feel the callouses on Apep's fingers, the rough strength of them, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
"Tell me what you want, Ned," Apep growled, his voice low and commanding. His fingers traced the line of Ned's hip, dipping lower, closer to where he ached for touch.
Ned's mouth was dry, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what he wanted, but the words were stuck in his throat, trapped by a mix of fear and embarrassment.
Apep's fingers paused, his gaze hardening.
ned took off his pants and smiled sheeply. he leaned into apeps legs and kissed his thighs , using his tongue to caress the muscle underneath.
Ned’s breath hitched as he felt the giant’s heavy weight pressing down on him, the rough texture of his skin against his lips. He could feel the heat radiating from Apep’s body, the scent of his arousal filling the air.
Ned’s fingers trembled as he reached for Apep’s cock, which was already thick and hard, pulsing with life. He wrapped his hand around it, feeling the warmth and weight of it in his palm. He stroked it gently, watching as Apep’s eyes closed in pleasure.
"Fuck, Ned," Apep groaned, his voice deep and rough. "You’re going to be the death of me."
Ned didn’t stop.
He couldn’t. He was lost in the heat of Apep’s body, the taste of his skin, the feel of his cock throbbing in his hand. He wanted more. He wanted everything.
He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste the head of Apep’s cock. It was salty, musky, and he groaned at the flavor, his own cock twitching in response. He could feel Apep’s gaze on him, heavy and intense, and it spurred him on.
He took the head of his cock in his hands, swirling his tongue around his slit, licking the inside and stimulating apep's nerve endings. Apep’s hips bucked slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fuck, Ned. Your mouth…” He trailed off, his fingers tangling in Ned’s hair, not pulling, but holding, guiding. Ned took the hint, opening his mouth wider, taking more of Apep’s length in. He could only manage about half before his throat protested, but he relaxed, breathing through his nose, and took more, inch by inch.
“That’s it,” Apep murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Take it, little scribe. Take my cock like a good boy.”
Ned moaned around the thick flesh in his mouth, the vibrations making Apep’s cock twitch.