Chapter 4
IV
That night, I slept more than I had in months. Given yesterday, that was callous, even for me. I tell myself it was physical exhaustion and not indifference that quieted any guilt.
When I stand up, my body feels so sore, it’s difficult to brush my teeth. My lats ache each time I take a deep breath, but weirdly, I kinda like it. I fill my lungs until they protest, leaning into the pain and holding it there.
I find a fresh uniform in the chest of drawers, but my sticky skin makes even the idea of working unbearable. I put it on regardless, stuff my hair in the cap, and leave my room, not to look for a bath, but to ask for one.
I walk straight to the upper levels, my destination the room I saw Aba? in last night.
But once I reach it, I see a candelabra taller than me covered in thick candles illuminating the tapestries hanging on the wall.
The honeyed wax drips softly to the wood below it.
I’m sure this wasn’t here yesterday, but I recognise the pattern of the wall coverings and am certain I’ve reached Aba?’ corridor.
I count the doors, hesitate, then knock three times.
“Enter,” Aba? answers, his voice surprisingly clear through the door.
When I swing it open, I see him sitting in the same chair I’d seen him in yesterday, only this time fully dressed.
“What do you want?” Aba? asks calmly.
“I want a bath,” I say confidently. “Or a shower,” I add.
He raises an eyebrow. “Making demands, are you?” he taunts.
“I was digging ditches all day. I’m filthy,” I explain.
“Oh? Are you now?” he says smoothly, a wicked grin crossing his features.
I blush at the double entendre. I hadn’t intended it to be.
Even in bright daylight, this room is just as gloomy as the rest of the castle, but the flames of the fireplace make Aba? glow. Suddenly, I remember yesterday. The chair. The fire. Bare skin framed by—
I blink away the images, completely aware of how inappropriate it is.
“Well, Mister Bloom,” he says, waving me into the room, “come here and show me how filthy you truly are.” He saunters over to the fireplace, leaning on the mantel as if this was a regular Monday morning conversation.
Without a word, I enter until I stand in front of him.
“Good boy,” he mumbles.
An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his tone. He moves two fingers toward the door, and it shuts, almost as if it was beckoned and obeyed.
Aba? approaches me slowly, looking me up and down.
“You don’t appear filthy,” he says, walking around me in a wide circle.
“It’s a fresh uniform.” I try not to flinch at his intent gaze. I feel small again, trapped but not in a bad way.
“Well, then, take it off. Show me why you must bathe.” He stands back, arms crossed, waiting.
I hesitate only a moment before my fingers unbutton my shirt, my sore arms slipping out and letting it drop to the floor. My body, it seems, made a choice before my mind could even begin to talk me out of this.
Aba? approaches, then bends down until his face is very close to my chest. I can feel his breath on my skin.
It’s surprisingly cold, and goosebumps form where it touches me.
From my belly button all the way up to my neck, he smells me.
My breath stops at his closeness, and I feel the hairs on my skin rise.
I want to touch him, but I don’t dare move.
“You don’t smell filthy.” He steps back again.
I swallow hard, yearning for a bath. Or maybe something more.
“Remove the trousers,” he commands.
I know I shouldn’t obey, but that doesn’t mean I don’t desperately want to. Without hesitating I unbutton the fly and let them drop to the floor.
My cock immediately tents my boxers. Aba? steps forward letting out a quiet mmhhh of appreciation.
He drops to the floor and looks at every inch of my legs.
I feel small, exposed, and too frail next to his ridiculous frame.
I know, if he wanted to, he could crush me between his fingers like a dried-up twig.
I wish I had spent my life eating healthy food and exercising so that instead of standing here sore and shivering, I could possibly stand a chance to survive such a thing.
“How could I possibly see how filthy you are wearing that?” he says, pointing to my underpants.
I take a deep breath, then drop them clumsily. Slightly embarrassed, I notice my bare cock stretching eagerly toward Aba?, begging to be touched. I realise that I’m still wearing my hat, I hesitate for a moment and then decide to leave it on.
Leaning toward my crotch, he inhales me, making no contact at all. For a second, I’m mortified. But then he continues to talk so calmly, as if having bare cocks in his face is an everyday occurrence.
“Smells like a regular human to me.”
He stands back up and moves two steps away. Strangely, I don’t want him to leave; I want to ask him to come back, beg him to touch me.
“Begone.” The door opens with a thump.
I flinch at the sound. “What?”
“I said, begone,” he says, voice still as smooth as before.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Why are you still here?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
I can’t believe this shit. Did he really just—
The tapping of a foot interrupts my train of thought, and the rising of an eyebrow takes my entire attention. Haughty.
I don’t have a single coherent thought, my brain throwing all sorts of unintelligible things at me. I scramble for my clothes, trying to gather them as quickly as I can. Stumbling toward the open door, I barely make it out of the room before it closes behind me.
The icy draft crawls along my skin as I stand there shivering—and still filthy. My mind is scrambled in complete disarray. I want to be mad, furious even, but instead, all I feel is the heat of intense—I don’t even want to think about it.
I pull my uniform on as quickly as I can, cursing each time the fabric snags at my sticky skin. I wince when I try to tame my hard cock beneath the trousers. The buttons press against my flesh, and it hurts but not in a bad way.
“Fuck,” I mutter when I realise I still haven’t bathed.