The Art of Bathing

Timothy wakes on his bed on the servant's chambers the next day. The nobleman must have dressed him and brought him back, and Timothy is grateful.

He goes about his chores, body a little sore. He notices finger-shaped bruises on the sides of his hips, and hand-shaped ones on both his arse cheeks as he changes into his work-wear. Timothy bruises all too easily because of his pale complexion. They don't hurt too much so Timothy shrugs, and goes about his chores.

In mid-afternoon, the castle steward gathers the servants for some announcements.

"As you all know, the king returned from the war front last night," the steward drawls out, sounding absolutely bored. "And refused the gracious banquet we oh-so-lovingly prepared for him."

The servants grumble at the reminder of their wasted efforts. Oh, so that's what the banquet was for, Timothy thinks.

"But the king had seen the error of his ways, and asked a banquet to be prepared in two-days time," the steward adds sweetly.

Groans resound in the steward's room, and Timothy joins in.

"Quit whining and get to it," the steward chides. "Oh, and, the king ordered the hot springs to be empty a candlemark after midnight until two candlemarks before dawn every night. He'd like to take a bath at those times and will order the beheading of anyone who dares disturb him."

None of the servants complained, already having taken their baths and dead asleep at those times. None except Timothy. Timothy's heart drops to his boots.

My luxurious bath time , Timothy inwardly cries out. Timothy mourns the loss for the rest of the day, going about his tasks with a heavy heart. He suppose he can always take a bath at midnight but a handful of servants may still be awake at that point. He has to give up goofing around in the baths now.

But wait, what about the nobleman? He told Timothy that he will meet the servant in the springs every night at that time. Has he heard the announcement? Has he been informed? Surely he has.

Timothy bites his lower lip, worry cresting in his chest. The nobleman has been so kind to him the nobleman before, teaching him methods Timothy has never considered before. Timothy has to check tonight, and make sure the nobleman isn't there. He can sneak in, peek in surreptitiously without the king seeing him, and sneak out again.

Night comes, and Timothy awakes at his routine bathing time. He dashes to the springs without a soap or a towel or even boots. He quiets his steps as he reaches the entrance to the cavern, crouching down and peering into the men's springs.

There, the blond hair of the nobleman peeks out as he lounges on the same spot as the night before. Gods, not good. Panic grips Timothy.

"Sire, sire!" Timothy approaches him hurriedly, still in his nightwear.

The nobleman turns to him, and smirks. "Timothy."

"We have to get out of the springs, sire!" The servant whispers harshly, brown eyes darting around.

The nobleman arches a brow. "And why is that?"

"Ha — Haven't you heard the announcement, sire?" Timothy nibbles his lip. "Any time now, the king will go to the baths and will behead anyone he sees here! The steward informed us just this morning! Come on, sire!" Timothy grabs onto one of the nobleman's arms, and attempts to pull him up and out. The nobleman doesn't budge an inch. "We can't be seen here."

The nobleman stares at the servant for several precious moments. "Sometimes, Timothy, I wonder if you're pulling my leg."

"It's no jest!" Timothy cries out. "We will be beheaded if the king—"

The nobleman tugs his arm forward. Timothy, who's holding onto said arm with both hands, lurches forward with it. He yelps as he topples into the springs, fully clothed.

"I've got special permission from the king himself," the nobleman informs the servant as he resurfaces with a gasp. "I can bathe here whenever I want."

"Truly?" Timothy asks with surprise. The nobleman must be very close friends with the king then.

The nobleman nods. "And I can bring anyone to the baths with me. We're safe, Timothy."

When the words sink in, Timothy smiles. He can still take his nighttime baths as long as the nobleman is here! He hopes he never encounters the king while doing so though.

"Let me help you with your clothes," the nobleman offers, leaving his seat and approaching Timothy.

"I didn't bring any soap, sire," Timothy says. He lifts his arms and allows the nobleman to pull up his tunic. The nobleman's fingers brush over Timothy's nipples, and the servant flinches.

"Don't worry; I did." The nobleman throws the soaked tunic over to the stones, and begins unlacing Timothy's trousers.

Timothy looks over the nobleman's shoulder and finds three filled bottles lined up at the corner. Timothy shimmies out of his wet trousers, the nobleman's hand accidentally palming a bare arse cheek as the man pulls the clothing down. The nobleman throws the trousers out too.

Timothy sits on the nobleman's lap once more but this time, his back is to the man's chest. Their cocks bump together under the water, and Timothy attempts to move his away to prevent unnecessary swelling.

"Leave it," the nobleman says, grabbing both his wrists. The nobleman leads Timothy's hands in the space between their legs. The nobleman forces the servant's fingers to encircle both their cocks and squeeze them together. "In fact, I think they're swelling already. Why don't you remedy them both at the same time?"

The nobleman is right, of course. Both Timothy's and the nobleman's cocks are already engorging. It's more efficient to remedy them together.

Timothy moves the circle of his hands back and forth their lengths, already breathing hard. He feels the heat of the nobleman's much larger cock against his own, adding to the feeling rolling his stomach. It isn't nausea, Timothy knows now. But he still doesn't know what it is.

"Look at your small hands around my cock," the nobleman whispers, his own breathing ragged. "Speed it up, bitch."

Timothy complies, stroking furiously. "Ah, hn, hn, hah." He runs a thumb over their slits just like how the nobleman did the night before. "Uh! Hah! Hn, ah, ah."

"There you go again, sounding like a shameless whore." The nobleman pinches both Timothy's nipples.

"Uhm!" Timothy writhes, something pleasant shooting down his stomach. "Wha — What was—?"

"Oh, your nipples are hardening," the nobleman remarks. "Perhaps we should remedy them too." With that, the nobleman begins playing with the nubs on Timothy's chest, pinching them lightly, rolling them between his fingers, rubbing them with his palms, circling them with an index finger.

"Uhm! Ah, hn, hah, hah! Uhm! Uhm!" Timothy's pace on their cocks falters, distracted by the sensation emitting from his nipples. The ministrations feel painful yet so good at the same time, leaving the servant breathlessly confused.

After a few minutes, "They aren't softening, huh." The nobleman ceases his actions, and Timothy feels oddly bereft. The servants pants, trying to catch his breath. "Let's try another way."

The nobleman nudges Timothy off of his lap, and the servant gets off on shaky knees. The nobleman climbs out of the spring, rivulets of water dripping from his body and engorged cock bobbing in the air with each step. Timothy watches with interest as the nobleman fetches the deeply red cape folded atop a rock, and unfolds it onto the ground. The nobleman returns to the servant. He snakes an arm under Timothy's legs and wraps another across the servant's shoulders. The nobleman easily lifts the servant up and out of the waters, and lays Timothy down on top of the spread cloak.

The fabric feels soft upon Timothy's skin, and the servants rubs his cheek against it in contentment. It's definitely softer than the scratchy sheets provided in the servant's quarters.

"Look at you," the nobleman breathes out. Timothy's gaze snaps to him, and finds the nobleman staring at him with darkened eyes. The nobleman begins to smile. "Spread out for me in my colors like the slut you are."

Timothy smiles back, unsure of the nobleman's exact meaning but he knows he had been praised.

Timothy shivers suddenly; he's out of the spring's hot water and wet into the night. The nobleman crouches on top of him, probably noticing his trembling and deciding to give him warmth. Timothy is grateful for it.

The nobleman's thick thighs brackets Timothy's hips, and, when the nobleman sinks fully down, their cocks meet with a slap. The nobleman grunts, and Timothy whimpers.

The nobleman leans forward until his face is near Timothy's chest. Then, his mouth latches on to one nipple, and Timothy's cries out. The servant's hips mindlessly thrusts up, and their cocks rub against each other at the action. The nobleman groans. He grinds down in response, velvet tongue swirling around the nipple. He nibbles at it and sucks on it while his hand plays with the other one.

The nobleman truly is making sure his nipples are clean and well-remedied, Timothy thinks even as stars erupt at the back of his eyelids. Timothy continues stroking his cock against the nobleman, deciding to concentrate on the remedy to their swelling cocks.

"Ah, uh, ahn, ahn, ahn, uh, uhm!"

The nobleman's mouth switches to the other nipple, the nobleman's breath heavy and moist against the skin of Timothy's chest.

"Hahn, hm, ah, hah! uh, uh, uh, ahn."

The nobleman unlatches his mouth from Timothy's chest, presses the nipples with his thumbs, and flicks them back and forth.

"Uhhhm! Ahhh ~"

Cum spurts out of Timothy's cock, painting his stomach ropes of white. Timothy convulses under the nobleman, pleasure lighting up his whole body.

"That's it, that's it, you fucking whore."

When Timothy comes to, a few seconds later, the nobleman is scooping the servant's cum from his stomach. The nobleman then spreads the cum over Timothy's chest. Timothy makes an inquiring noise, too out of it for words.

"The cum can also be used as an ointment," the nobleman explains. "Your nipples aren't softening at all so I rubbed some on it." Timothy's a bit concerned that after all that remedying, his nipples are still hard.

But, "Perhaps it's just because of the cold, sire?"

The nobleman hums. "Maybe. I'll try to do one last thing. I can try to remedy it and my own cock at the same time."

The nobleman scoots up until his folded legs are right beside Timothy's upper arms. His weeping reddened cock drops heavily right in the center of Timothy's chest. Timothy has to cross his eyes to look at it.

The nobleman sweeps his cock over Timothy's right nipple, the heated flesh kneading against the nub. Timothy gasps.

"Ngh, ngh." The nobleman thrusts into it for a minute. "And now the other one." He flops his cock on the left nipple, doing the same as his chest heaves with the effort. "Hmm, perhaps it is because of the cold. All right, whore, time for me now. Hold your tits together."

"Tits?" Timothy doesn't have those. Only girls do.

"Like this." The nobleman grabs the flesh on the sides of Timothy's chest and pushes them to the center to form a hollow.

Timothy frowns but follows the instruction. Like this, Timothy does look like he has small breasts on his chest like a girl's.

The nobleman inserts his cock into the formed hollow. He shoves his cock forward, the cum on Timothy's chest slicking his way. The cockhead hits Timothy's chin, and his lips, and the servant turns his head to the side to prevent further assault.

"Don't turn your head away, bitch." The nobleman takes a fistful of Timothy's curls and lifts his head up and forward at an almost painful angle. "Look at all the cum that's being wasted." The nobleman thrusts forward again. "Lick my cock, bitch. Drink that cum."

Timothy supposes he shouldn't really waste it. He keeps his mouth open, and the nobleman's next grind jabs the cockhead right past his lips. Timothy's tongue darts to lick the cum off of the slit, and he even sucks the cockhead a bit to ensure he gets it all.

"Fuck!" The nobleman pulls back, and pounds forward again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, you perfect fucktoy!" The nobleman's balls drag over Timothy's stomach as the man thrusts back and forth into the servant's chest. "Your whorish tits feels so fucking good around my cock! And that cocksucking mouth! Ah, ah, ah. Those tits are made to wrap around cock, so fucking smooth and hairless. That's right. You look so slutty, laying there and letting me tittyfuck you. I'm going to tittyfuck you so hard as a reward!"

Timothy has never been praised for being hairless before. It's usually a cause for teasing. Timothy bites down a pleased smile, and wraps his 'tits' more tightly over the nobleman's cock.

The nobleman says, " Yes , you good fucking whore!" and hammers his engorged cock faster into it.

The nobleman releases his hold on Timothy's hair, and the servant's head drops back onto the red fabric. Timothy loses sight and taste of the cock but not for long. The nobleman scoots further up, cock right above Timothy's face as he strokes and strokes it vigorously.

"Fuck yeeeeeeaah."

The nobleman's balls tighten before thick strings of cum shoot out of his slit and all over Timothy's face. Timothy closes his eyes on instinct, which seems to be a good call. He feels cum drip onto his eyelashes and eyelids, over his nose, on his right cheek, and liberally on his lips.

"So pretty with my cum all over your face. I wish I could have a portrait of you right now."

"Men can't be pretty, sire." Timothy wipes the cum near his eyes before he opens them again. He licks the cum near his lips, swallowing them.

This close, Timothy can see the nobleman's pupils blown super wide, almost engulfing the blue of his eyes.

"Adorable then."

Timothy scrunches his nose. "I'm not a child, sire. I'm twenty summers." The servant reaches out to get the cum off of his face and into his mouth but the nobleman stops him.

"Let the cum dry on your face. Your face needs cleaning ointment too."

That makes sense. Timothy drops his hands.

The nobleman presses two thick fingers to Timothy's lips. "Here, suck on my fingers. They still have cum."

Timothy accepts the fingers into his mouth, sucking on them thoughtfully.

As the night progresses, the nobleman has more to teach the servant.

~

A/N:

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