Long past midnight stood a stony tomb, far from the reaches of everyday life. It was said that an invaluable treasure rest somewhere beneath its halls, a self-described archaeologist descending its entrance for his prize within. The third time would be the charm, he thought, a headlamp illuminating a notebook sketch of the catacomb’s interior.
The flawless masonry and hieroglyphs would have suggested Egyptian make, were it not for the dim rows of lights illuminating the tiled hallways. The thought of someone wiring an ancient tomb with electricity perplexed the archaeologist.
Yet more out of place, was a lone girl painting more glyphs on the ceiling, insectoid wings fluttering until she noticed a bright light cast upon her work.
“Kyaaa! Intruder! Intruder!” the half-scarab girl shrieked, beetle-like limbs skittering against the stone floor as she stormed down the catacombs. The archaeologist remained while the khepri made her way to a dark room, knocking on a sarcophagus until its inhabitant crept out from the stone lid groggily.
“Intruder in the antechamber!,” the khepri bounced in place as she tugged on a lethargic mummy’s loose bandages, “He’s here for the pharaoh’s riches!”
The bandaged girl yawned as she stretched her stiff arms, “Ra damn it, can’t they wait another month between raids, at least?”
The archaeologist could hear something dragging its feet from the far-end of the antechamber, a shambling figure coming into view. She was lithe; bandages dangling from her arms and bare navel, a simple linen sheet draped around her waist and brown legs. A hand obscured her face, but did little to hide the unkempt brown hair that draped over her head.
This was the right one, he thought to himself.
“Intruder… you disturb my master’s tomb yet again… begone, or suffer-” she groaned.
The archaeologist didn’t budge as she lowered her hand, green eyes reading until she covered her mouth upon recognizing him.
That same leather jacket from just two weeks before, with the fur trim. Its owner still had that thin goatee, and last time walked away from the tomb with the bandages once wrapped around her legs.
The intensity which she wanted to place a curse upon him could only be matched by the dryness throughout her body.
The mummy glanced at him, wondering why the intruder knew her name. The archaeologist then held out what looked to be a wad of old gauze strips, taking her but a moment to recognize based on the thick scent of cedar coming from them.
“You’re the scoundrel who has now thrice accosted my master’s tomb,” she shambled closer, “The very same who stripped my legs bare the last time I fended you off!”
The archaeologist held out the linens, a frustrated mummy snatching them with a stiff grip.
“D-do you not learn?! Are you a fool who wishes for my master’s-s curse?” Munira stammered on, “Why do you keep waking me?!”
The man quietly unslung a satchel from his back before he beckoned the mummy to sit beside him.
“You cannot be serious-” she said, before the man pulled her in by the wrists and parked her linen-clad bottom on his lap. If she was still alive, goosebumps would have coursed through her at the sensation of her bare bottom smacking against him.
“I’ve come for you, Munira,” he whispered over her bandaged ear, “I knew from when my eyes met you, this was how we were meant to be.”
‘Stop it’, she thought, ‘he was only saying these things to lower her guard and make off with her pharaoh’s treasures’. What other reason would he say these honeyed words to her? Her words couldn’t find their way through her mouth, which hung agape as his hands began to unravel her arms.
“For these long weeks apart,” he pressed against her back, “I’ve wanted to unwrap every inch of you.”
The mummy held her lips between her teeth as his palms ran over her shoulders, burying her hands into his thighs. ‘He can’t actually be into this, there wasn’t any way possible,’ she pondered, until something began prodding against her thighs.
“Oh Ra, he’s so stiff right now…” she thought aloud, grinding herself slowly against the lump in his jeans.
The aroma of cedar began to hang in the air.
“I read about this, some mummies were pumped with cedar oil as part of their embalming process, and even after reanimation that smell can still come through body fluids,” the archaeologist chuckled as his hands sank somewhere between her legs.
“I can almost taste how hard you’ve been waiting for someone to ravish with this body.”
Munira’s mind went blank as his fingertips touched against a warm nub, unintelligible moans escaping her lips as she fell limp on her side. She was helpless as the man untied the linen sheet over her waist, to show a dribbling mess against her thighs and a plump bottom despite being a corpse.
A grope in appreciation failed to rouse her as the archaeologist rolled Munira on her back.
“This is the treasure I’ve come for,” the man whispered to her carnally, dropping his pants to reveal something far stiffer than the cross-eyed mummy before him. Munira outstretched her bared arms towards him, legs parting wide in anticipation for his rod to plunge into her.
The mummy’s back arched as the tomb raider bottomed-out within her insides like a wet glove, locking her legs around his back as he began to thrust into her. She tore the bandages over her small chest, pulling her lover against her ribs.
“Release inside! I beg of you,” she gasped, rocking her hips into each thrust. The sounds of their lovemaking rang through the antechamber. She cried out in joy when she felt stern hands grip her nude hips, a girthy eruption filling her to the brim. They both fell on the stone floor, warm in each others embrace.
The archaeologist rubbed Munira’s head, her skin just a tad more supple than before. Even on her third or fourth climax, the feeling of his touch drove her mad with pleasure each moment their skin met.
“Munira!” a shrill voice called through the halls as her wings skittered to a halt. The khepri fell mute when the lingering smell of cedar overcame her, face flushing red when her eyes met the nude couple. The archaeologist and mummy exchanged a glance before giggling to themselves.
“We should do this somewhere a little more private next time.”