Full Summary:
Timothy has been taking baths in the castle's heated springs late at night. One night, he encounters a nobleman who teaches him another way to clean himself.
Or
Oblivious uneducated peasant meets smarmy nobleman who takes advantage.
Trigger Warning: This work contains Rape/Non-Con elements. A character has too little knowledge of what's going on to properly consent.
. . . .
Timothy of Bilewitan village has been accepted as a castle servant in the citadel of Pintelas.
The result surprises both Timothy and his father.
Timothy isn't ungrateful, not at all. But when he had undertaken the three-day journey towards the citadel to find a job, he had not expected such an amazing opportunity. He had strode into the castle on a whim, merchants and vendors and even blacksmiths refusing to hire him after looking at his pale complexion, wide brown eyes, skinny arms, and lithe form.
Timothy knows what they see when they look at him; a coddled village boy who barely worked a day on his life. Which isn't true at all! He helps his father on the farm, working day and night to hoe the land and harvest crops. It isn't his fault that his body failed to develop muscles even after years of hard work, that he's prone to sunburn rather than tanning, that he can't grow even the slightest of stubble to make him look his age. He's twenty summers, for gods' sakes. He's no boy.
However, the castle's steward takes in his figure, from the dusty worn boots up to his dark curls and hires him on the spot. Timothy stares at her in shock before stuttering out a "Thank you!"
He writes to his father about it. A few days later, after a higher-ranking servant has taught him all the ropes and his things are settled in the servant's chambers, he receives a short reply.
Timothy, my boy, what the fuck? And how the fuck?
— Your very confused father.
Timothy merely laughs, used to his father's swearing.
A few more days later, Bargy, the manservant of one of the lords in council, pulls Timothy aside.
"No one has told you about the baths yet, have they?" Bargy asks with an amused grin.
Timothy runs a hand through his ringlets, which has become oily now. "Baths?"
Apparently, the castle of Pintelas was built over an underground cavern filled with clear hot springs. The king had allowed anyone living in the castle, from the lowliest servants to the highest of royalty, to use them. The only rule is that men and women bathe in separate springs to preserve propriety. The servants had bathed in the springs every night after a hard day of work, the heat like a balm to their sore much-used muscles.
The nobles and royalties had scoffed, too prudish to be naked in the presence of commoners.
When Bargy invites Timothy to join them in the baths that very night, Timothy agrees eagerly. He usually never liked baths but that is because hot water has rarely accompanied it. Now, there's perpetual heated water, free to use? Timothy will be taking his bath everyday now, he decides.
Bargy, Timothy and four more servants climb down a set of stairs, towels and soaps in hand. The granite walls eventually give way to obsidian stones, the air damp and warm. A sort of fog or mist hangs in the air, making everything a bit fuzzy and unreal. Several other servants have already taken a dip, and their chatter fills the spacious air.
The men's heated spring is as wide as the servant's chambers and looks to be more than a few feet deep. Timothy wastes no time, stripping off his tunic, trousers, and small clothes. He kneels down at the nearest precipice of the spring; whose waters are so clear that Timothy could see the rocky bottom.
He dips a hand, testing the water's temperature. It's absolutely perfect, warm enough to soothe but not to scald.
"Bargy, this is perfect." He shifts around to beam at the very servant who informed him of it.
Bargy's gaze flick up, looking caught. Behind him, the other servants abruptly turn away, and resume arranging their things.
"Yeah," Bargy replies, sounding out of breath. "Perfect."
Timothy turns back to the springs, and gracelessly climbs down into it. The heated water caresses his aching limbs. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep moan of satisfaction. This is heaven, truly.
His neck prickles, and Timothy's eyes shoot open. He finds every single eye trained on him.
He squeaks, wondering what he has done wrong. "Uh, hello . . .?"
Most of the gazes fall off him, and Timothy sighs in relief. Bargy joins him soon after, the taller servant wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to an unclaimed corner. Timothy is surprised at the touchy gesture, but he welcomes it; his father isn't one for hugs but Timothy is. He welcomes every kind of affectionate touch bestowed upon him.
Bargy and Timothy talk about their day for the time it takes to finish their respective baths. Timothy quickens his, uncomfortable at the eyes he can still feel on him.
For a week, this becomes Timothy's routine. He goes to the springs, feels several eyes poking at his back, and hurriedly washes up to escape them. Bargy has helped in his endeavor to haste the bathing; the other servant scrubs his back, all the way to his arse cheeks. Timothy is grateful for the help but no amount of it will change his mind on his next decision.
He needs to bathe when there is no one around the springs. He cannot even enjoy his bath properly because of the stares! Baths are supposed to remove stress, not add more to it. Timothy has looked himself over in the mirror but found no weird birthmark or creepy growth throughout his body that would make him earn the scrutiny. He asks various servants why they stare but all he gets are responses full of jests.
"It's your arse. It's bouncy like a bun. Makes me want to bite it," Olri answers with a grin full of teeth. Gods, Timothy has heard of these kinds of people from his father's stories. Olri's a budding cannibal, someone who thinks human meat is as delicious as pork. Timothy resolves to speak as little as possible to the man in the future.
"You're very . . . pretty," shy Ninnin says with a smile that must be teasing. Men can't be
pretty
