#Professor Dreya (WRiE)

[tinybibmpreg]

Day 66 // ft. Pythrormr, Dreya, Oliver & Alban

#12 / Safe and Sound

“No no–it’s alright, come here,” Pythrormr beckoned his son closer. The boy hesitated, and then stepped forward. He gently tugged the boy against him, and took a moment to soothe and nuzzle him, rumbling softly. He brushed a clawed finger over the boy’s head-feathers, marveling still at how different the short, rounded squares were from his own sleek and pointy ones. They were puffy and soft in contrast to his silky feathers.

Two-toned eyes stared up at him, and he kissed the boy’s smooth forehead. “Father, are you okay?”

“I'm fine, my dear, just in labor. Your sibling is on their way.” He rubbed his swollen belly, and his son put a tiny hand on it as well. The baby kicked, and as he winced, his son grinned.

“Hello! It’s me, your brother, Oliver! Father says you’re going to be born soon. I’m excited to meet you.”

“And I’m sure they’re just as excited to meet you as well. N-now…” A contraction gripped him, stronger than all the previous ones, and he trailed off, holding his belly. “Ooh…”

Oliver searched his face, frowning. “Father?”

“Oh, j-just a moment, darling- mm…” Oliver crawled off of his lap, and knelt next to him as he laid down on his side. He buried his face into a pillow to muffle the noises he was making. Oliver pet his hair, making a small cooing sound, mimicking the one he often made when the boy was upset.

After a minute, the contraction faded away, and he took a moment to steady his breathing. Then, he turned his face towards his son. “Oliver… I need you to go down the road to the house with the dead tree and knock on the door. Ask for Miss Draya. Be very polite. When she asks you what you’re doing there, tell her the General needs her help.”

“Okay.”

“If she asks how far along I am, just say I told you I’m very close.”

Oliver nodded. Pythrormr rubbed his head, and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy. Now, hurry.” After a pat to the shoulder, Oliver climbed off the bed and ran off. As soon as he heard the front door slam shut, he sighed and began to undress. He got off the bed and looked around at the candles and charms he’d set up. He adjusted a few of them, and lit the final candle at the small shrine on the nightstand.

He drank the concoction that had been sitting in the center of the shrine since he’d first realized he was in labor, wincing at the bitter taste of it.

All that was left of the ritual was a prayer, so he got comfortable in his nest and recited the chant he’d once heard at the other side of the lake, the one he’d repeated over and over while straining to deliver Oliver over six years ago.

-

Though Oliver was young, he understood what was going on. His bearer liked to baby him, pretend he was ignorant of many things, but he knew that having a baby hurt a lot, and that his bearer would be sick and in pain until his sibling was born. He’d read a few books about it.

Still, he didn’t like seeing his bearer in pain, and it did scare him. The books described how childbirth was dangerous, and that things could go wrong for both the bearer and infant.

It hurt his lungs to run all the way to the house with the tree, but his bearer had told him to hurry, so he did. Running always made breathing difficult, especially if he ran for an extended period of time. Oliver slowed down when he reached the property, and went up the door. He knocked, and waited, coughing.

Doing that didn’t make his chest feel any better, but he couldn’t help it.

The door opened, and a reptilian woman with long brown and black headfeathers glared down at him through her thick glasses. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Oliver. Are you Miss Dreya?”

She snarled and corrected, “It’s Professor Dreya to you, Oliver. What do you want?”

“The General needs your help, Professor!”

Her eyes widened. “So you’re that wretched creature he delivered six years ago. Great to see the cause of my banishment choking ungratefully at my doorstep, I suppose.”

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say in response to that. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She sighed, her ruffled feathers smoothing down. “So, your bearer’s having another mongrel, is he?”

Mongrel wasn’t a word he had heard before. “He’s having a baby.”

“And he wants me to help him.”

Oliver nodded.

She resigned to her fate. “Alright. How far along is he?”

“He said he’s close.”

“Great, a nonspecific answer. Hey, did you run here?”

“Yeah.”

“...Are you alright?”

He shook his head. “I have bad lungs.”

“We’ll take my truck over. Come on.”

-

In between pants and groans, Pythrormr prayed to his beloved’s gods, even if he did not believe in them, in words he only half understood. He knew the father would have wanted the children to be born according to his culture’s tradition, and though the man had no idea he had sired two offspring, Pythrormr would not disappoint him.

He could feel the urge to push growing stronger with each contraction, but waited. Until the urge was irresistible, or if Dreya had told him he was ready, he would hold back.

The front door opened, and he heard his son’s light footsteps, as well as the heavy steps of a reptilian, the dragging of a long tail.

“Father, I brought Professor Dreya!” Oliver brought the former professor into the bedroom. Dreya looked just as irritated as always, her feathers ruffling as she took in the sight of him laboring in his nest. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yesss… Your sssibling issss quite clossse…”

“I’ll be the judge of that, sir. You just lay back and actually try to relax this time. Oliver, go make yourself as out of the way as possible.” She put her medical kit on the bed next to him as she approached, a look of disdain on her face. With a bit more force than necessary, she moved his leg out of the way.

“He… He can sssstay… Ah…”

“I said to relax,” she growled, two of her declawed fingers pressing into his cloaca. He leaned his head back and focused on breathing, mouthing the words to the prayer. “You still have a few centimeters to go.”

“But I-”

“-Feel the urge to push,” she finished for him. “I know. But yet again, your body has no idea what it’s doing. That’s why we don’t have little hybrid babies all alone on the outskirts of the desert.”

“I… I have you.”

“Against my better judgement. I should hold your little half-breed hostage until you reinstate me back into society.”

“I’ll- I’ll kill you if you hurt him, Dreya.” He pushed himself up with one arm, teeth bared. Then he fell back on his side as his abdomen contracted, groaning.

Dreya moved towards Oliver. The boy hissed and darted to the bed, ducking under her arms. Pythrormr forced himself to get to his knees, pulling his son close. His headfeathers flared, and he growled at her even as the pain made him want to curl up.

“Always on alert, ready for anyone to strike, no matter how injured, how ill. That’s General Pythrormr- ready to kill even when he’s an hour away from delivering a hybrid that won’t survive past the age of ten.”

He refused to believe that Oliver wouldn’t survive to adulthood. His blood had always survived impossible odds. Oliver was a fighter at heart, just like everyone else in his bearer’s family. The baby would be as well.

Though… he glanced down at his son. Oliver had just run a distance that would be easy for any reptilian child his age, or even a younger one his size, and his breathing was ragged, his chest no doubt wracked with pain. He could feel his son’s heart racing against his skin, not from fear, but overexertion.

He knew even a human child wouldn’t still be so worn down.

“Well, General? Do you believe your children will survive?”

“They’re my blood.”

“The both of them are lucky to be carried to term at all. They need doctors and daily medical care. You leave that boy here all alone, don’t you? Just him out in the desert, just a few miles away from me.”

Of course Dreya still held a grudge against him. He shouldn’t have expected her to forgive him after so long. It’d been foolish of him to think he could actually have help during his delivery.

He had Oliver move behind him, and when Dreya pulled a knife from her coat, he lunged at her.

-

It was exhausting to kill and then drag a body outside, and to clean the blood from his scales, but he refused to have a corpse looking at him while he gave birth to his beloved’s second child.

Oliver was unfazed by the death, but worried about him as he sank to his knees in the doorway. He doubted Dreya had told the truth about how dilated he was, so he bore down, groaning.

“Father!” Oliver hurried over to him.

Pythrormr did a count in his head, and then relaxed, panting. “Hey, Oli… Would you mind cleaning up the floor in here while I have your sibling?”

“Okay.” Oliver, always the obedient child, did as he was told. He left the room to find cleaning supplies, and Pythrormr crawled over to the bed. He pulled himself up onto it, and got into position. As soon as he was ready, he pushed again.

Just as Oliver’s birth was excruciating, this one was too. He didn’t understand why it hurt so much to deliver such small babies, but his body insisted on making it as painful as possible.

His son cleaned up the blood splatters on the floor, and picked up and relit a candle that had fallen. Once all the blood was gone, soaked up by towels, Oliver came over and asked, “Do you need anything, Father?”

He shook his head. Oliver still seemed worried about him, and sat down on the floor next to the bed.

The boy stayed quiet and huddled up until Pythrormr gave one last yell. The baby slid out onto the bed, and he gasped. Carefully, he lifted up the baby and laid them down on his belly. As he wiped the baby clean with a small towel, Oliver peered over the edge of the mattress.

“You have a little brother, dear.” Oliver’s eyes brightened, but he didn’t move. Laughing softly, Pythrormr reached for him. Oliver climbed onto the bed and crawled closer. The baby began to cry, a quiet whine just as Oliver had done as a newborn. He finished wiping the baby clean, and wrapped him up in a soft blanket. Leaning back against the wall, he held the baby to his chest and tugged Oliver against his side.

His son was enamored with his new sibling. “Hi there, brother… I’m your big brother, Oliver.” The boy looked up at him and asked, “Father, what’s his name?”

“I’m not sure yet, dear. It took me a few hours to come up with yours…”

“He looks like me. But without my spots.” Oliver was albino, but with patches of brown on him that was very similar to his father’s skin color. The baby was all white, not a single brown scale or speck of flesh to be seen.

Typical of young children, the baby had far less scales than he or Oliver, and the scales he did have were fairly smooth.

“His eyes aren’t like mine either…’ Oliver said, as the baby settled down and opened his eyes, revealing pale pink eyes. His pupils were the same shape as Pythrormr’s.

“They’re the same as half of your eyes.” Each of Oliver’s eyes were half brown on the side close to his nose, while the outer half was pale pink. “Would you like to hold him while I take a shower?”

“Yeah!” Oliver happily took his little brother, and once Pythrormr was certain he had a good hold on the baby, he left to take his shower. It felt great to feel hot water on his scales, and to get the fluids off of his thighs. He felt horribly sore between his legs, and it hurt to touch his slit.

The water started to turn cold, so he shut it off and dried himself with the last towel he could find. He found and pulled on a pair of underwear and some shorts, deciding to go without a top so he could get some skin-to-skin with the baby.

It felt nice to lay down in his nest, knowing they were all safe and sound. The baby was cooing at Oliver, and his son was purring loud, a scratchy rumble Pythrormr loved to hear more than anything. He had Oliver lay down next to him after retrieving a diaper for the baby, and pulled the baby against his chest. He would have to prepare food for the baby, and give him a proper bath, but for now he was content to let them all relax.

He was just about to doze off when Oliver asked, “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Hm… How about Alban? Oliver and Alban… I think your father will love your names.”

“They’re human names, right?”

“Human names, just like him. He’ll be so proud of you two. You’re both perfect.”

“Even if I’m really sick all the time?” No doubt the baby would be just as weak as Oliver, have the same poor immunity and fragile skin.

“Yes. You’ll always be my perfect boys. Your father will agree.”

“When are we going to meet him?”

“I don’t know, Oli. Maybe when you’re both bigger. It’s a long trip to where he lives. Your brother is too small to make it that far without a doctor, and I’m afraid there’s no doctors who would go with us.”

He had considered taking Oliver with him to the isolated territory his beloved resided in the last time he’d gone, but did not. He was too focused on work, and wouldn’t have been able to have had the time necessary for introducing Oliver to his father. He’d been lucky to have a night alone with his beloved. Now Alban was squirming in his arms, and he couldn’t risk traveling so far with a newborn.

“Okay. I hope it won’t be too much longer, though. I want him to meet Alban too.”

“So do I, dear.”

#here's a birth one for the holidays lmao #oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg birth #labor #Oliver (WRiE) #Alban (WRiE) #General Pythrormr #Professor Dreya (WRiE) #What's Right in Exchange