Author's note: This story contains themes of corruption, mind control, and non-consent. As always, let me know if you have any comments, suggestions, or questions, and thanks for reading!
A screaming whistle erupted from the kitchen. Amy tucked her change of clothing under an arm, threw open the door, and stepped out into chaos.
"Yer wastin' all o' the hot water!"
She pressed herself against the wall and slid past Jim as he began pounding on the loose wooden door which rattled loudly against its frame, drowning out whatever reply Xavier had given. The hall opened up into a small room with chipped tile flooring, peeling floral wallpaper, and a small kitchenette tucked into one corner.
"What?! I can't 'ear yeh!"
Amy scooped the kettle up and turned off the burner with her elbow, hovering next to the stove for a moment to enjoy the temporary warmth. A rivulet of toothpaste was dribbling down her chin, and shifting the brush's position in her mouth only made it worse. She glanced around the room, but the cabin's only table and the limited counter space was entirely covered by tools, metal parts, paper, books, clothes, and the junk one accumulated while traveling. Amy shrugged, threw her sweater down, and placed the kettle on top. She resumed brushing as the bathroom door opened and Xavier emerged, followed by a curtain of steam.
"It's
your
turn to go last mate."
"Tae fuck it is, hae some respect for yer elders."
Jim shoved past him and disappeared into the bathroom. Xavier turned as the door slammed closed and called back, "We're nearly out of food."
"Then go buy some, I ent yer keeper."
Xavier turned and raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled back, as best she could with a toothbrush between her teeth, and willed her gaze not to drift lower. He was wrapped in only a towel, and his muscled chest and abdomen were on full display. She couldn't help but recall her dreams the night before. Vague half-remembered scenes bubbled to the surface. Her, Xavier, and Gwen. All together. Suddenly the stove's dwindling heat felt like an inferno. Before she could dwell on the images, a scratching at the window announced Tattie's arrival.
The plump orange cat glared at her, his scowling face distorted by the ancient foggy glass. She unlatched the window, and he tugged it open himself with a single hooked claw and lept to the floor before turning his nose up at her and trotting past without a glance. Fair enough, the cabin had been his home before any of them had arrived. Cold air followed him in and goosebumps broke out along her arms. She shut the window and spat into the kitchen sink.
"I swear he's gotten at least 30% more Scottish since we got here."
Amy listened for the sound of running water, then half-whispered, "You don't think he heard us last night, do you?"
"Nah, the old man could sleep through an air raid"
Xavier moved closer, took hold of her waist and pulled her into him. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. It was nice being with someone taller than her. He leaned in and began nibbling at her neck. Amy ran a hand along his back, tracing the subtle ridges of his latissimus dorsi. Privacy in the cabin was hard to come by, and she savored moments like this.
The house was a stone walled, grey roofed cottage set against the edge of a dense forest that encircled the castle grounds. It was rustic, charming, and with three people and one cat living there, incredibly cramped. Intended for only one occupant, it was smaller than her apartment. Just a small bedroom, a joined kitchen/living room, and had only a single bathroom, unless you counted the outhouse, which Amy did not.
It had once been the home of the castle's groundskeeper, until the night the castle itself had nearly burnt down. Growing up, Jim had spent summers here with his father. Now it had sat unused for nearly 20 years with the exception of his rare visits to keep everything in working order. Unused, that was, with the exception of Tattie. Apparently he'd been coming and going for the better part of a decade despite Jim's attempts to remove him. Amy opened her eyes and found the cat glaring at her from beneath the sofa.
Don't you judge
.
Jim was quick, and when he emerged they'd only just begun breakfast. What hair he had left was brushed back, still damp, and his beard was dripping. He gave his face a final rub with the towel before tossing it onto the mountain of dirty laundry the men shared. She gestured at a plate of toast on the counter and he muttered his thanks. They'd cleared little patches of space on the cluttered table, just enough for a few plates and cups of tea, or coffee, in Amy's case. Jim considered for a moment, then took his plate to the decrepit sofa instead. Tattie gave a warning growl as it sagged under Jim's weight.
"Wheesht yeh rascal." He turned his attention to them, "I suppose t'day you can see the castle."
Amy perked up. "You mean it?" He'd been avoiding the castle since they arrived, and shut down any conversation about going with a stern warning not to step foot inside.
"Aye, I can't make yeh wait forever. It's what yer here for. We'll need to go before dark though." He didn't elaborate further, and from his tone Amy gathered he was deep in thought.
They ate in silence for a while, silverware clinking against the plates. Eventually, Xavier asked, "Are you finally feeling back to normal? Erm- jet lag-wise, I mean. Not the other thing." He winced, but Jim didn't seem to notice his odd phrasing.
"I think so. Close enough anyways. I'll go into town today and get groceries. Xavier, why don't you come with me? There's something I need your help with."
He smiled conspiratorially before realizing that she was looking past him. He turned, and his expression fell when he noticed the pile of laundry. With a sigh he replied, "Alright, fine I'll be your pack mule. But for the love of god please fix the bloody water heater while we're out."
That last bit was directed at Jim, who was bent down, offering Tattie a corner of toast. "It don't need fixing, yeh youngsters just need tae be quick about it."
"There's no being quick with this." Amy held up a length of her hair and pointed. She'd skipped washing it the past two days just to avoid risking another freezing shower and it was starting to get gross.
"Ah, yeh just need a trim." He leaned forward and lurched to his feet, leaving the plate on the floor for Tattie, who watched him with suspicion.
"I like it long," Xavier offered.
"Aye, I bet yeh do at that."