Far and away from the big city, the glorious and frankly old as sand, Cairo–

with its omnipresent smog, and the cacophony of its two-hundred-something million people, with its skyscrapers reaching so high into the sky they were practically scratching gods' asses, like nails do the butt of a yogi master–

Vitto Carnellius, the humble servant of God (forty-two, which forty was the new twenty), was making his way across the blessed desert, accompanied by his–

God bless him–

boyfriend, David.

It was on camel backs the two were crossing the desert, in hopes it’d be inconspicuous, and cheap. Which it was both. But also, it was a pain in the ass. Vitto’s balls hurt no matter how he placed them in that god-awful saddle. And he shouldn’t have been thinking about his balls. It was the last thing he should have been thinking.

There were other things, after all, things that were more important, greater things, much…much greater. Things that mattered. But as much as it pained him to admit it, his balls also mattered, to him. And having ridden for three hours straight now he couldn’t think much of anything else. Did he have to travel by camel, at the end of the twenty-second century, for God’s sake, whilst his peers spread God’s word to the end of the galaxy (and back) by spaceship? Yes, if that was what it came down to. And it did! Because at the end of the day, there wasn’t anything more important than this. Not a single damn thing. Not even his balls.

His mission was to save the galaxy, after all. Not by some spreading of God’s word bullshit. No! He needed to really save it. Because according to his sources, and he had good sources on this, it was all going to Hades soon, the universe and whatnot. Unless, of course, he, Vitto, saved it. Even though the universe was busting his balls right now.

“Vitto, wait!” David shouted after him.

He too was having trouble with his camel, though the problem wasn’t with the balls. The hunched-back animal was just not cooperative. Ill-tempered is what it was. And though David had dealt many a time with bad tempers in his life, Vitto himself being the most prominent example, as far as camels go, this was his first.

Vitto heard his boyfriend’s screams, of course, loud and clear. Didn’t mean though he was going to even consider stopping to help him. Whatever David had ridden before seemed to enjoy the ride. Personally, Vitto could vouch for that. But apparently not this time. This time David looked ridiculous up there in his saddle, trying unsuccessfully to man the animal, no clue what he was doing too. The camel just wouldn’t go straight. It was only going sideways for some reason, as if it was broken, which Vitto didn’t think it was. And so the chiseled-faced Greek statue David was caught red-handed at the moment looking his worst, one of those rare instances he didn’t look picture-perfect. Watching him embarrass himself was a lot of fun, and Vitto intended to savor it. If only his modeling agents could see him now, getting sand-blasted in the face like that, his eyes all red and watering, the top three buttons of his shirt undone–

his heated body exposed to the scorching sun, glistening–

Damn it, he was still doing it even now! He was being perfect. How did he even do that, Vitto wondered. He never met anyone this good-looking before in his life, it was ridiculous.

He raced his camel forward, frustrated with himself, as fast as the old nag would go, balls or no balls. Watching David struggle with his camel was no longer fun. He needed a break from this. He needed to remove himself from temptation named David, perfect as he was, because his mission was actually supposed to come first. He was a priest, for God’s sake, not a saint!

And the boy was half his age too. And drop-dead gorgeous. Around him, Vitto felt giddy like a sixteen-year-old all the time. And he oftentimes acted the part too, whenever he was near David. He never thought at forty-two he would still feel that way. Itching like an animal, insatiable, ravenous, dirty. He couldn’t get enough of it. He always thought better of himself but here he was, his dick now the center of his goddamn universe. And David–the only one, it seemed, who had the talent to handle it.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Vitto, and focus on the task at hand right now. Right this minute!” he grumbled at himself, sternly. The boy could have been his son, for all he knew, with the twenty years of age difference. It was obscene thinking about him like that, the things he had been thinking, even for someone who wasn’t a priest, but for a man of faith especially. He knew that. And yet he couldn’t quite stop himself. He didn’t have any biological children of his own, so he knew for a fact he and David weren’t related, age gap or no age gap. And whatever paternal feelings he had for him, he wanted to fuck him all the same. And his dick wouldn’t let him forget about it.

But it didn’t matter! David didn’t matter. Whatever ambiguous feelings he had for him, didn’t matter. And his balls, aching as they were, mattered least of all. He was a man on a mission now, and that was what truly mattered. Above all. It was an important mission too. The most important maybe. He was going to save the world, even if it killed him. That was what he told himself. It was a shitty world. But it was worth saving nonetheless.

After all, if the world were to end, so would Vitto and even David, and together with them all the things he still loved in the world, and there were a great many. His dick, for one. He was enjoying that. Now more than he had ever before that he’d finally found someone like David. There were other things too, things that made life worth living. As simple as good food, money, his career, and the prospect of maybe starting a real family one day. His newly discovered piety too. Or technically rediscovered. Because it took him a long time, and it was way overdue, but he was wearing his father’s vestments again, now didn’t he? That was something that gave his life a new meaning. Who knew that in his forties he would finally come to enjoy life? If someone told him that before he simply wouldn’t believe it. But he did enjoy life now. Honest to God, he did.

He didn’t want it to end. That was for certain.

Even the darn camel ride he swore he enjoyed, minus the aching balls, so long as he was better at it than David. And David was better than him in so many ways, most importantly–his age. Which was probably the reason Vitto was so competitive. The way he treated the boy sometimes was plain mean but he could hardly help himself. He didn’t even know why David stuck around. His money, he guessed. But deep inside he knew it was way more than money. Love maybe? Would he even dare to admit it was love? Whatever it was, if he was sometimes rough on David, David probably deserved it. And, God knows, he was young enough to take it rough.

“Hurry up, David! You wouldn’t want to get lost in the desert,” he shouted back at him, without even turning to look. And then quickly added under his breath, “You’d never survive on your own.”

The two had a rather dysfunctional relationship, granted, he and David. Yet, somehow, after five years of their quasi-marriage, it still worked.