The Dragon Rebellion (M-Preg)

Chapter Seven: Leash and Collar

Reid was in pain. The longer he waited for the bone deep ache to subside, the more intense the sensation grew and he could still feel him there. With every echoing breath, the phantom fingers lingered across his skin, erupting into the vicious darks and blooms of color that he could not escape. He was a prisoner in his own body.

As if the filthy Dragons hadn't taken enough. Now they robbed even his own desires. There was no way to hide this reaction, to blend and bury the reality that his body was no longer his own. No, he was a beacon now, to everyone who would ever lay eyes upon him, that he wore a collar and Kincaid held the leash.

The alien in question did not return for the remainder of Reid's Rut and he didn't know whether or not he should be angry or relieved. His instincts screamed in outrage, but the rational part that hid deep in the crevasses of his subconscious knew it was a victory. Small as it was.

When the fever finally broke, Reid felt like he could breathe again. Even if it felt like he was suffering from pneumonia, lungs filled with fluid, rattling with each inhale, a breath was a breath and he wouldn't take it for granted.

Even though his body ached and filth coated his skin, he managed to stumble his way into the bathroom, ignoring the gentle tinkling of the chain scraping against the floors. He washed himself as best he could with a rag at the sink and rinsed his mouth since no one had bothered to give him access to a damn toothbrush.

The soap tasted powdery and disgusting but it was leagues better than the layer of chalky grime his previous meals had left behind. He didn't bother trying to tame the mane on his head, it wouldn't lay flat, not with just water. He needed shea butter or coconut oil to do anything with it and he doubted he'd find that here.

After freshening up the best he could, he made his way back into the room, noting the sheets had been changed and a new cart of food had been left within reach for him. It still amazed him how the servants could work so quickly and silently when he was only feet away and be none the wiser. A majority of the time they were like ghosts.

Reid sat on the freshly made bed and pulled the cart close. Taking the tops off the dishes, the smell of food only served to make him nauseous, even though his stomach clenched with hunger. It had been days since he held anything down. The Rut hit him viciously, robbing him of any desires for food. Lust and hatred fueled him for those few days.

A part of him thought the Naerians would make sure he ate during those times, not because they cared, but because they needed him in prime condition if he was to pop out those eggs like they so desperately wanted. That assumption was quickly proven wrong. His Naerian captor could care less about his health and wellbeing and oddly enough, he didn't even try to breed him.

What was he waiting for? It was the whole purpose wasn't it? For all of this? If he had no intentions on breeding him he would have just left him alone. He should have left him alone. It didn't seem like he even wanted Reid around. None of his actions made any logical sense which only made it that much harder to plan.

If Reid wanted out, he'd have to play by their rules. Escaping wouldn't be an option, not right now when he was quite literally chained to the bed. There had to be some way to gain his Naerian's trust. Just enough to release him from these shackles. After that, he could figure something out. He just needed to get free.

And doing that required knowledge on his captor. How could he make him budge? What would he be able to offer? All of this hinged on what exactly he wanted with Reid. An answer he could easily get when the alien rarely even showed his face.