Chapter Text
After dressing and eating the next morning he opened the door to the smell of vomit. His slave, who lay weakly in his restraints, had apparently emptied his stomach during the night. Ronan guessed the cause was somewhere between the pain of the mouthpiece coupled with the crop welts and fear of today. He brushed a finger along one welt and Quill moaned brokenly.
Ronan began undoing his slave’s bonds and as he did so he explained his last punishment. “You seem to have forgotten your conditions before you came to me. You were ignored, except to receive pain, you were not fed properly, and from the smell you came with, you were not allowed to use the facilities to relieve or bathe yourself often.”
He flipped his slave over after releasing his legs, arms and shoulders and began removing the mouthpiece. “You need a reminder of that, and a lesson in how quickly you can destroy your comparative ease with one act of defiance.”
With the gag removed Quills stiff jaw remained open and he stared with glazed eyes at Ronan. Dried vomit stuck to one side of his face, matting his hair.
“You will remain in this room until I come to you. I will leave you a pitcher of water and I suggest you use it sparingly. You will have no contact, no food, and no access to facilities. You will be given nothing to ease your pain. When I return, if you are contrite, I will release you.”
He gathered the straps, gag, and crop then turned and left without another word, locking the door behind him.
***
The days and nights were different without his slave. He’d grown used to another body in his bed and though Quill was mostly quiet, the boy’s presence had become comfortable. Nevertheless he went about his days as usual, passing the slave’s room without a glance at the locked door. Ronan checked on his slave through the ships monitors often though.
The first day Quill mostly slept restlessly. Moaning and twisting, unable to find a comfortable, painless position. On the second day the boy was finally able to close his stiff mouth and drank half of his water supply greedily. The third day, he crawled from the heavily soiled mattress into a corner of the room and only sipped occasionally from the water pitcher. On the fourth day he watched his slave walk wobbly to the locked door, trying the button to open it before knocking softly on it, listening for any sign of an answer outside is little room. On the fifth day his water was gone along with the tentative knocking. He banged on the door and yelled as much as his weakened body allowed. On the sixth day, the boy lay curled on his side in the corner clutching his soft belly as tears silently fell. When the same behavior was repeated on the seventh day Ronan decided to release him when he returned that night.
When he returned to his rooms he ordered his servants to bring a bowl of thin bland stew and start a hot bath. Ronan, still dressed in his paint and armor slid open the door separating his slave from the rest of the rooms. The putrid smell assaulted his nose and would have had a lesser being’s eyes watering. Quill lay in a tight ball, asleep on the floor. Ronan approached him and lowered himself to his haunches. He traced the boy’s closed lids until they fluttered softly. They opened blearily and it was some time before acknowledgment lit in them. When it did a small gasp left the dry, cracked lips and he uncurled himself weakly, using Ronan’s knees for support as he fell against his chest.
Ronan froze and his brows rose as the slave pressed his face into the exposed area of the thick corded neck, rasping against it, “I’m sorry.” Thin arms snaked around his waist. “I don’t want to go back there again. I’m sorry.”
Ronan had expected some meek form of repentant but nothing to this scale. His slave clung sweetly to him and sobbed softly when Ronan ran a hand through the greasy, matted hair.
“You won’t, so long as you never strike out at me again.”
Quill shuffled closer, pressing himself against Ronan further. “Can I come out with you?” His whispering voice was muffled against his neck. “I don’t want to be alone in here anymore. I won’t try to hit you and I’ll do what you want.”
Instead of replying, he scooped his slave up who didn’t so much as gasp or flinch. Just clung tightly to Ronan. He stood and walked to the bathing room. His plan had been to feed Quill first but the boy reeked of urine and vomit. As he lowered his cringing slave into the hot water he contemplated this unexpected reaction to solitude. He honestly hadn’t realized how deeply; mentally affected Quill was to the solitude he experienced with Corin. Had he known, he would have released Quill sooner.
Although, this turn of attitude was pleasant and satisfying, he was concerned it had touched the boy’s mind. He had never had a slave, born into slavery or new, react the way Quill had to being locked away. Others would have drawn themselves up to their knees and apologized either meekly or grudgingly. Quill however, had practically thrown himself on Ronan and clung out of desperation. The boy had proven himself to be different than all others time and again, but this time it was concerning.
He was brought back from his musings when fingers wrapped around his wrist as he drew his arms from underneath his fully seated slave. Quill didn’t need to use his voice. His wide, watery blue eyes were transparent.
“I am not leaving,” he rumbled with assurance to his trembling slave.
He soaped his slaves’ body, running the cloth from his toes to his head. This was a first for Ronan as well. Never had he attended a slave before, but he doubted his boy would have had the energy to do it himself. So there Ronan sat on the edge of the pool, washing his slave who stared up at him and jolted every time Ronan shifted; as if afraid his master was getting up to walk away.
He drained the water and refilled it, adding the fragrant oils that suited Quill. He sat back and allowed Quill to soak in the warm water, squirming faintly to find a more comfortable position off of his still sore backside. An odd tenderness unfurled within Ronan’s chest as he watched the eyes droop slowly then snap back open and seek his form.
It wasn’t normal and Ronan didn’t like it. What was it about this one that made him so soft? He knew this was dangerous. One of the first things he had been taught in his training all those years ago was that a Kree warrior with an attachment was a weak Kree.
And he was attached to this feeble form in front of him. He enjoyed playing with him, tormenting him, yes, but he also enjoyed simply watching him, petting him. He enjoyed seeing the need in those eyes far more than he should. It wasn’t love. A Kree didn’t know how to love. But it was a fondness he’d never experienced before.
He decided his slave had enough soaking when the boy’s head threatened to slip underwater. He grasped Quill under his arms and pulled the smaller form up and out of the water. He placed him on his feet but before releasing him he asked, “Can you stand?”
“Yes,” he whispered and nodded.
Ronan let go but took a moment to make sure his slave was steady before turning to get a drying sheet. He wrapped it around the shivering body that leaned into his own. Ronan looked down at the damp curls resting on his chest armor. Their height difference made Quill seem even more fragile than he truly was. He knew that Quills height was nothing to be scoffed at compared to other Terrans, but tested against Ronan’s size the top of his head rested just under the Kree’s chin.
He ran his hands over the welted bottom, grinning at the flinch. When he grabbed a handful of each cheek and squeezed his slave grimaced and moaned, trying to bury his face into Ronan’s chest but accepted it without protest.
Ronan released him and turned to leave calling behind him, “Come.”
Quill swayed and stumbled but followed as quickly as his drained body allowed. Ronan sat and pointed to the spot between his legs where Quill obediently dropped, wincing at the impact on his knees. The boy’s eyes trailed to the tall glass filled with cool water and the bowl next to it. Ronan first took the glass and held it to his slave’s lips, quietly ordering him to, “Sip,” allowing him a few small drinks before setting it to the side and reaching for the bowl. Quill’s fervent eyes followed him, shuffling forward when he saw what Ronan offered. Either he didn’t care, or was unaware of how eager he looked as Ronan brought the bowl forward.
Before placing the first spoonful into his slave’s open mouth he warned him, “Slowly. I will take it away if you cannot control yourself.”
Quill nodded and sighed when the first food he’d had in seven days landed on his tongue. Ronan could tell it took everything Quill had to chew thoroughly before swallowing, his body eager to consume the spoonful whole.
He set a measured pace, alternating between feeding Quill and giving him sips of water. When the glass was empty Ronan handed the bowl and spoon to him and stood.
His slave made to copy the motion and Ronan shook his head. “No. Stay where you are. Finish your food but keep in mind I will not be pleased if you retch it up because you could not show restraint.”
He sidestepped his slave and called to his servants to assist with his armor. Quill did as he was bid but his eyes followed Ronan’s every move, going so far as to turn his body to watch as Ronan walked by naked, to the bathing room.
He washed quickly and returned to find his slave. Though Quill hadn’t left his spot, he had one hand braced on the floor in front of him; as if at some point he’d made to rise and follow. He wondered how long the boy had been debating on whether to follow him despite his orders not to. He was pleased that obedience overruled.
“Have you finished?”
Blue eyes dropped to the empty bowl looking as if he expected to see more, then slid back to Ronan. “Yes.”
“Then come along.” He turned, trusting his slave to follow.
He was already reclining on the bed when Quill shuffled in slowly stopping at the end, uncertainty showing on his face. Ronan gestured to climb on in his usual spot. Quill eased himself onto his stomach then turned his face to Ronan who did nothing other than dim the lights to off and let himself drift to sleep.
***
The next morning things were back, more or less, to the way it was before. Quill was his usual quiet self but Ronan could feel the desperation to be close to Ronan pouring off the boy. His blue eyes followed him, but a different light illuminated within them. It was heavy, needy.
Also clearly visible was the stress of the previous days. The boy held a dilapidated look of someone stretched too thin, as if his will was drained and his mind sapped. There seemed to be no fight left, only acceptance.
When he finished dressing and returned to stand in front of Quill, the boy looked to him expectantly. Ronan was going to test the waters. See how much his slave had learned in the days of solitude. He was unsure, however, of what his slave’s mind could handle at this point. Nevertheless, he kept his face impassive and reached down to card through the curls on top of his head.
“Before your punishment we were training you to do as you were told without fight.”
His slave, who had been leaning into his touch with closed eyes, paled and slowly brought guarded blue orbs to meet his violet gaze.
“We will continue.” Impossibly, his slave’s face became whiter. Ronan nodded to the corner where the chains hung. “You know what is required of you.”
For a very long moment his slave stared up at him with a look of dismay before his body seemed to collapse in on itself and he dropped his head to the floor. His breath hitched and shoulders began to shake heavily, silent except for wheezing gasps. Just as Ronan thought he’d have to drag his slave to the chains and take the whip to him again the boy rose, shaking as he stood to face him. He pleaded to Ronan with his eyes who remained unmoved; waiting.
Quill took a step backward, toward the chains. “Please,” he choked out.
Ronan mirrored his step, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”
Quill gasped for breath between his weeping. “I can’t take it.” Two more steps were taken and mirrored. “Please,” he said again.
Excitement bloomed within Ronan as he followed his slave to the chains. Ronan’s eyes, he knew, were lit and bright waiting to see if his slave would go all the way, if he would accept it. He watched Quill with veiled anticipation, the only hint of his thrill was the small upward curve of his lips.
The boy stopped just beneath the chains, his arms wrapped around his stomach, looking between them and Ronan who stopped in front of him, so close he was almost touching him. Quill’s eyes dropped and he tilted his head to rest against Ronan.
“I can’t handle it.” He mumbled into his chest, shuddering air to his lungs. “I swear, I’ll die.”
When he received no response, he untangled an arm from around his stomach and reached for the metal collar. With shaking hands, he fit it against his neck and jolted when it snapped closed of its own accord; as he’d been told it would. A new wave of tears flowed and a tremble flitted along his body as he lifted his wrist to one of the cuffs and by the time the other wrist was secured he was practically hyperventilating.
Ronan’s nostrils flared as pleasure filled his chest. Quill jerked in his chains, flinching when Ronan, with a quick movement, wrapped an arm around his thin waist and lifted him flush against his armored body. He guided the still crying boy’s head to his shoulder, petting softly.
“Tell me why you locked yourself in the chains.”
His neck quickly became damp with this slave’s tears.
“Because you told me to.” His quivering voice was barely audible.
He fisted the curls and brought his head up to face him. “Are you afraid?”
The red face crumpled and he sobbed, “Yes.” His head nodded as much as the grip in his hair allowed. “Yes, please. I can’t take anymore.”
Ronan smiled and brushed his mouth against the trembling lips of his slave. “Calm yourself,” he rumbled, collecting the salty tears hanging on the edges of the plump mouth. “You are afraid and yet you did as you were told. Is that not the lesson I said you would learn?”
Quill paused and swallowed; nodding with a jerk.
Ronan hummed and bit at the mouth beneath his. “Then maybe instead of being punished a reward is due for doing so well?”
The boys breathe hitched and jumped from the effort of his tears and he looked at Ronan with wet, unsure eyes. He released Quill’s hair and brought the now free hand to his boy’s mouth, tapping lightly with two fingers.
“Suck.”
Quill didn’t hesitate and drew the fingers in, sucking and lapping with his tongue. Ronan trailed his lips down the smooth jaw, nipping lightly. “Very good. Make them wet.”
He slid his fingers back and forth across the tongue trying to wrap itself around them, collecting as much saliva as he could.
He pulled the fingers away and dropped his arm between their bodies, pushing his slave’s thighs apart. He passed by the very soft member there and went directly for the small opening between the rounded globes. He circled it lightly with his middle finger and felt his slave’s body tense in anticipation of pain that didn’t come when Ronan breached the tight ring. His finger slid in easily and Quill slumped in relief only to yell and go taut when Ronan dived straight for his hidden bundle. He prodded and rubbed softly while his slave squirmed in his hold, trying to draw his legs up. When the boys cock started to fill and rise, Ronan tightened his hold around his waist and hoisted him higher with the arm between his legs.
He fastened his lips to a vein in the boy’s neck, biting and growling out in a low tone, “You did very good, pet.”
Quill whimpered a moan while Ronan continued. “The way you so bravely fought your fear and obeyed.” He slipped the second finger in next to the first, using both to caress inside him. “I am proud of you.”
Quills legs tightened around his arm, squirming to find some friction against his armor. His hands jerked in their hold as a reflex, trying to bring it down to wrap around his hard member. He groaned and thrust himself against Ronan.
“Please, touch me!”
Ronan’s brows rose. “I am touching you.” He swirled his fingers in emphases. Quill’s eyes rolled back and his mouth dropped open, shuddering.
“No, no, I need more! Oh, God I need it.”
“Tell me what you need.”
His slave groaned and swiveled his hips. “T-touch my cock. I need your hand on it.”
Ronan growled and bit at his boy’s ear. “Such a filthy mouth. One could almost be tempted to give in.” Quill cried out at this, hoping no doubt, his request would be granted.
Ronan pressed in harder. “But you should know by now I don’t give in to anything.” The boy wailed and clenched his eyes, trying in vain to bounce on Ronan’s fingers. “I am giving you all you need to find release.”
Quill cried out, “I can’t do it! I need more!”
Ronan chuckled darkly. “Greedy boy.” He pulled his fingers out, slamming them back in and jabbing almost cruelly against his slave’s knotted spot. The trapped boy jerked high in his hold and tossed his head back as far as the collar allowed. Ronan withdrew and slammed in again and again, fast and hard, his hand making obscene sounds against the slave’s ass.
Quill sobbed, bounced, and rocked; lost in his need, crying out garbled words. Pleading with Ronan through moans. His legs twisted, squeezing against the thick armored arm.
Ronan felt the muscles in Quills back clench and he knew the boy was close. “Look at me.” The blue eyes snapped to his. “Come for me.” Quill whimpered and twisted.
Quill’s head dropped forward suddenly, pressing against his neck. The body in his arms stiffened and small teeth clamped down on his neck as Quill’s pearled come shot between their bodies.
Ronan growled as the small teeth rolled his flesh, sharply. He smashed his hand against Quills clenching ass, his fingers jamming further and harder than before, set at a brutal pace until the boy threw his head back with a keening scream.
He twisted, trying to escape the onslaught against his over sensitized prostate. “Stop! Oh God, no more! It’s too much!”
Ronan continued until Quills eyes rolled back and his body spasmed. Only then did he remove his fingers and let the boy go limp in his arms.
Ronan pulled his arm from between the shaking legs that instantly wrapped around his waist, and reached up to unclasp the cuffs around his wrists and neck. They draped across his shoulders in a light hold as soon as they were free. Ronan, with one arm still around his waist and the other splayed across his bottom, turned and made for his bed just through the door nearest to the chains. With one knee to support him on the bed, he laid his slave upon it. When he didn’t move right away, Quill’s eyes opened and met his.
“You have pleased me.” He dipped his head to press his lips against Quill’s, who parted without prompting, and drove his tongue in, stroking Quill’s once before pulling apart.
He untangled the boy’s limbs and rose, walking to the cabinet for a cloth. He wiped his armor off as he returned to Quill. Tossing the rag on his stomach he said, “Rest for now then see to your duties. Make sure the room you stayed in is thoroughly cleaned. Have the servants remove and replace the mattress there as well.”
As he made to leave he was stopped by a quiet, “Ronan?” He turned to the sight of his slave half sitting, using his arms for support.
“Can I just go with you today?”
His brows rose, concern for the boys mind building again. “No. You have duties to see to, as do I.” When the shoulders slumped minutely he added in a softer tone. “I will return this evening as I always do. Rest, then start your tasks. You will be fine.”
Quill nodded with his eyes dropped. Ronan came back to his side and pushed his slave to lay back and shifted the covers over his body. He trailed one finger down the smooth jaw, then turned and left.