Trouble || Gay MxM || Omegaverse

4. Distant Feeling

Nothing was amusing. I wasn't fucking amused. No. It never happened. I'd just been loopy from pain and starvation... Because now I couldn't feel a thing. No emotions or feelings that weren't mine. I stared at the backs of my eyelids, staying immobile, listening... There was no way it could've... No. There was nothing. No one besides me. I'd imagined it.

Then I got annoyed at myself. Again. For the hundredth time in the past several hours that I'd wasted on finding out if my alpha... No. Fuck that bitch in particular. The fuck I cared? Because I didn't care.

I tried to find my inner peace, because I had bigger issues to worry about and really fucking needed it at that moment, but just like my useless alpha, it was gone. I couldn't calm down at all after the omega had made fun of me... The fact that he'd managed to get so under my skin that I was still seething pissed me off even more.

And to make things worse, I needed to take a leak.

I turned to glare at the portable toilet behind the folding screen. There was no fucking way... But I was sure the omega would give me only one other option: sleeping in my own piss. And I wasn't going to beg for shit. At least it wasn't a fucking potty or a bottle...

Swallowing my pride, I got up on my weak feet, trying to keep my posture straight with the chains weighing me down. I'd never been this weak before. Hell, I was shocked that a young alpha stud like me could get this weak, no matter what. Like I didn't have muscles at all.

I made my way behind the folding screen, just about staying up on my feet without tripping on thin air, and made sure I was hidden from the camera as well as I could be. I stared at the toilet, then slowly opened the lid. There was some kind of substrate at the bottom of it. I wrinkled my nose, but it was better than nothing, then went to pull my dick out, only to realize that the black sweatpants I was wearing weren't mine, and that I had no underwear on.

Great... Just great...

As I relieved myself, a thought occurred to me. I'd stayed here for five days... If the omega had been telling the truth, he'd fed me. And I'd had that flashback of him helping me drink... Where were my boxers exactly? But before I could proceed with that train of thought, my head put all my brain activity to a complete halt. Thank fucking lord. I didn't need to know. I didn't want to know.

Well, at least I was feeling more comfortable now with an empty bladder. I was finally feeling calmer. After putting my dick away and washing my hands in a small bowl left next to the toilet, I turned back to my bed, taking a deep breath to ease my tense mind.

But of course, the whole fucking world was against me, and that deep breath got my lungs worked up. The first few coughs were tolerable, but it grew worse in seconds. The wound in my stomach felt like it got caught in flames, the pain forcing me down on my knees to crawl the rest of my way to the mattress. I was about to pass out when I finally lay down, but the cough subsided, leaving me sweaty and weak and wishing for death, but conscious.

"Fuck me..." I breathed out, groaning while I tried to make myself comfortable.

I fucking hated everything.

With a new unbearable headache, and shredded throat, I tried to stay completely still, but I wasn't feeling any better. The pain was still so fucking awful I actually feared I was dying again. Why...? Why wasn't it calming down...?

I touched the bandages and cursed my fucking luck. The cloth under my fingers was wet.

"Hey... Mr. Medic?" I muttered, trying to keep my voice strong enough for the camera to pick up as I showed my bloodied fingers to it. "Good fucking job..."

In seconds, the omega opened the line. "How the fuck...? Stay there. Don't move."

"Bitch... I can barely breathe..." I mumbled, but he probably – hopefully – wasn't there to listen to me anymore.