Chapter 2
Mikura nearly sobbed with relief when she looked at the time; there was only ten minutes remaining before the weekly student council meeting would end and Sachiko would come to retrieve her. She never thought she’d actually want Sachiko around, but a deep-seated, throbbing need in her gut was growing increasingly difficult to ignore. She should’ve asked Sachiko for suppressants. It was the logical, obvious necessity. Even if she and Sachiko now established a relatively stable relationship dynamic (though with how rocky things had started off that wasn’t exactly a high standard), and both were more or less satisfied with it, Mikura had feared breaching the subject.
They were still alpha and omega, and a degree of physical attraction had always been present between them. Though if anyone dared to ask, probably only Midari or Yumeko with their streaks insanity, Mikura would vehemently deny the tension between her and Sachiko. Ruts only arrived every few months, and Mikura cursed herself for not having prepared for hers. Now it was too late for suppressants, and it would only be a great inconvenience to her master.
Sachiko had begun allowing Mikura to spend her time in the weightlifting room or the gym when she was busy after school so she could keep in shape. However, this afternoon, Mikura hid herself in the locker room. But now her cover was about to be blown—she heard someone fiddling with the lock on the door, likely the teacher opening it for the students. Mikura cursed herself for her forgetfulness—of course there were still students around because of sports practice.
It would only be mere seconds before they discovered her, collapsed against the side of her locker. Damn it, what do I do? Mikura gritted her teeth, blood pounding through her head.
Her senses were heightened, and the soft fabric of her uniform felt suffocating against her sweaty skin. The weight of her collar hung heavily around her neck, only reminding her of Sachiko’s absence. The one time Mikura actually needed Sachiko and the damn inconvenient timing made it during the few instances Sachiko wasn’t by her side. The backpack slung over one of her shoulders felt like a boulder, dragging her down towards the welcoming embrace of the cold tile floor.
If other students were to find her like this, who knows what would happen? What would they say of Sachiko? That she had grown sloppy and undignified for bringing a rutting alpha to school?
Mikura shuddered at the punishment she would receive for the gossip others would derive from that possibility. But if not that…
The doors swung open and a barrage of voices swept over her. Chattering drivel and loud giggles swarmed the room in unwelcomed onslaught. She had run out of time.
Mikura wanted to punch a hole through her locker—the punishment she’d receive for this would leave her hurting for weeks some way or another. Nevertheless, Mikura shouldered her backpack and promptly ran out as fast as she could manage. Her shallow gasps of air filled her lungs as she raced through the empty hallways, hoping that no student would see her.
Finally reaching the back of the Academy, the alpha practically sprinted to Sachiko’s black car, where their chauffeur stood in front of the vehicle’s doors. Sachiko was an impatient person, so she always had her driver wait in the back entrance and away from the crowds of students, and today her impatience was turning out to be incredibly helpful.
“M— Madame?” The driver stuttered in surprise as Mikura barreled past him and nearly ripped the car door off its hinges, crashing into the backseat. The man hesitantly leaned over to look into the dark interior. His nose twitched at the rampant rut scent emanating off of the alpha, but besides a disgusted grimace he didn’t speak of his distaste. After all, the man was a beta, so the scent would come across significantly weaker than it would to another alpha or omega. “Where is Ms. Juraku?” He ventured, eyeing Mikura as she curled up on the seat.
Mikura didn’t bother answering—it’s not like he was going to be in trouble for simply waiting longer. Hints of Sachiko’s scent pervaded her sense, expensive perfume mixed with her natural fiery, sharp undertone.
Resisting the urge to nuzzle closer to the scent, Mikura willed herself to try to catch her breath. Clumsy hands fumbled with her phone as she hastily pulled it out of her backpack. Sachiko didn’t know she had already left, and she’d already be furious at that alone. She paused, her finger above Sachiko’s contact. Droplets of sweat began to run down her face, and even the metal buckle on her collar seemed to burn through the leather to her skin.
“Shit!” Mikura jumped as the phone began vibrating in her hand. Sachiko’s name blared across the screen. There was no getting out of this now, and if she didn’t pick up Sachiko’s call she’d be in a world of trouble more than she already likely was. With shaking hands, Mikura clumsily jabbed at her phone.
“ ‘M sorry,” the words spewed out of Mikura’s mouth, “‘m sorry please I couldn’t stay, ‘m sorry Juraku-sama please I–”
Seeing that the housepet was talking to her owner, the chauffeur sighed and left to go sit in the driver’s seat, silently thanking the existence of the privacy shield separating himself from the backseat.
“You’re lucky I’m even calling you right now, mutt,” Sachiko’s smooth tone crackled through the phone. It was too quiet, too controlled–Sachiko was pissed. “What exactly compelled you to disobey me? And to think you were starting to behave so well for me.”
“...” Mikura gulped audibly. “I— I didn’t mean to.”
“You still did.”
“No— I—”
“Enough.”
Mikura flinched. “ ‘M in rut. I– I’m sorry, I didn’t… I–”
A sharp inhale crackled over the phone.
“Where are you?”
“In your car.”
“Hmph. So you do have some shreds of sensibility. Be a good pet for me and wait there.” The call abruptly ended as Sachiko hung up.
Normally Sachiko’s degrading names for Mikura would frustrate her to no end, but now it only made her whimper longingly for the other woman. She leaned against the car seat, desperate to catch on to Sachiko’s lingering scent that clung onto the fine leather. The implication of her reaction terrified her, another sign of something the alpha didn’t want to admit.
But if Sachiko had heard before she left, she hadn’t said anything.
After what felt like an eternity, Mikura heard Sachiko’s voice in all of its vicious glory. Cold air washed over her sweaty figure as the car door swung open, the hinges protesting with how hastily Sachiko was acting. Mikura scrambled over to the open side to look up at the intruder.
She was met with intense, ruby-red eyes glaring down at her. Now that was a familiar sight for better or for worse. Usually it meant she was about to be kicked or punished—but not it only made her want to howl and whimper like a puppy happy to see its owner return. And strangely enough, in her state, Mikura couldn’t even find the effort to be bothered by that realisation.
Sachiko reached down slowly and extended her hand toward Mikura’s face. Wariness tinged the edges of her gaze. She was testing if the alpha would lash out at her—maybe lunge forward and try to bite her, which would easily break skin if the alpha’s fangs had transitioned into their larger, sharper form. It definitely wouldn’t have been the first time Mikura had bitten her if she did, despite the fact that she was becoming increasingly subservient to the older girl. The effects of a rut could easily undo learned self restraint and unveil any harbouring aggression underneath, which Sachiko expected there to be.
Instead, Mikura shocked the both of them by lunging forward into Sachiko’s hand before Sachiko could instinctively retract it.
Sachiko stared down at the absurd sight in front of her. The alpha kept rubbing herself against her outstretched hand, aggressively scenting her. As her owner, Sachiko should have slapped her away and punished her for daring to do such a thing. And as someone with some semblance of morality, Sachiko felt obligated to put Mikura somewhere isolated before she jumped any omega around.
Yet Sachiko would be lying if she said the alpha’s eagerness didn’t spark a cruel desire to give in to the alpha’s advances. To just drag Mikura home and push her to her knees and see her squirm underneath her.
Some of Sachiko’s arousal must have leaked into her scent because Mikura shot her an all-too-smug smirk, drunk on being surrounded by Sachiko’s scent with her heightened senses.
The edges of Sachiko’s mouth jerked downward, her red eyes flaring. “Off, mutt. You’re not thinking correctly,” she growled.
Sachiko curtly withdrew her hand and cradled it in the other one. “Don’t tell me you get this mindless during your ruts.
The acrid smell of burning trash seeped into the air as Mikura’s scent turned sour. A sickening flare of rejection ached deep in the alpha’s body. She should be thankful that Sachiko wasn’t outright punishing her as she usually did, but all she wanted right now was the older girl’s approval. At least she could blame it on the rut hormones.
“You call it mindlessness, I call it impulsiveness, just like how I got stuck in this situation with you,” Mikura said, referencing how she had even become Sachiko’s housepet. She swallowed her inner voice’s disgust at her current passiveness but she wasn’t dumb—she knew Sachiko enjoyed their back-and-forth power struggle more than she let on. The alpha shuffled closer to the open door again, but Sachiko stopped her.
The omega struck out faster than Mikura could react, trimmed nails still managing to dig into her skin painfully as they gripped her jaw. Now that was a familiar sensation.“Shut up,” Sachiko snapped when a displeased growl rumbled forth from Mikura’s chest. “You’re not in any position to demand things of me, never mind when you’re half delirious.”
“I’m coherent enough to see you’re into this,” Mikura objected stubbornly. The alpha could identify the sharp, hungry flint in Sachiko’s eyes as lust. “I need you.”
Sachiko scoffed and eyed the way Mikura’s hips were subtly grinding against air as the alpha was on her hands and knees. “You’d “need” anything to try to hump.”
“Aren’t you happy or whatever for me not biting you for once?” Mikura whined.
Sachiko’s eyes suddenly narrowed. She was well aware that Mikura was only ever this submissive if she wanted something. The only other significant conflict they had was over Sachiko’s interest in Mary, the bold, reckless alpha that reminded her of a less ruthless Mikura. Mikura had gone out of her way to thwart her attempts at collaring the other alpha, even conspiring with Mary herself.
But surely Mikura wouldn’t have gone as far as to use her rut as a ploy to claim Sachiko as her own. “This better not be because of Saotome-san.”
“What?” The mention of another alpha, particularly Mary, made Mikura bristle. “Why are you mentioning her?” The genuine indignation in her voice was indisputable. Mikura was a fiercely possessive person like Sachiko was, and she grew used to being the only pet on Sachiko’s leash. “You think me feuding with her triggered my rut? That’s not how it works…”
Sachiko gritted her teeth. “You didn’t ask for suppressants.”
“I’m sorry I was too busy trying not to get my ass kicked by you,” Mikura grunted.
“Nevermind,” Sachiko brushed off the topic. “Aren’t you ashamed to admit that you want to get kicked around now, alpha?” She motioned to Mikura’s sweaty, wrecked form.
“I just said I’ve been trying to avoid that ever since I became a housepet. Where’d you get that idea?”
“By insisting you need me, you dumb mutt,” Sachiko hissed, her grip tightening even more as she leaned closer.
Emboldened by Sachiko’s engagement, Mikura grinned. “Really? Why would I listen to you, omega ?”
Suddenly Mikura found herself comically facing ninety degrees to the side, one side of her cheek burning. The sharp crack of a harsh palm against her cheek rang in her ears followed by an embarrassingly needy sound that split the air, a half-whine half-growl. It took Mikura a few moments to realise it was from herself.
It took more than a few moments for Mikura’s gaze to flicker back toward Sachiko’s. Eyes wide and registering what she had said, Mikura stiffened in preparation for Sachiko’s fury.
Perhaps Sachiko would’ve usually knocked her out right then and there for her insolence, but the omega simply stood there, her overly controlled, slow exhale and thickening scent indicating her frustration.
Of course Sachiko could be thoughtful, weighing the pros and cons of bets and investments, but careful deliberation was different from the conundrum Mikura was witnessing in front of her. Sachiko had even been able to predict when she had conspired with Mary—nothing seemed to catch her off guard enough to frustrate her. Then again, social politics was different than dealing with a rutting alpha.
Still, the sheer intensity of Sachiko’s glare kept Mikura more or less in her place, as well as the months of inculcated obedience now present in the alpha. The near silence was almost unbearable.
Sweat and desire snaked down Mikura’s body and wrapped her tight in a vice grip. The leather seats were slick under the alpha’s clammy palms, and clumps of her red hair stuck to her equally sweaty forehead.
Mikura braced herself as Sachiko raised her hand again, but she would never know what Sachiko had planned to do since a sharp ringtone pierced shattered the moment between the two. Sachiko’s brow twitched angrily as she glared down incredulously at the phone in her blazer pocket as if she had no clue what it was.
“What do you want?” Sachiko snapped into the phone the moment she was on the line. Mikura whined lowly—on top of her own neglected needs, Sachiko’s irritation was affecting her tenfold in her state.
Surprisingly, Sachiko responded by brushing the alpha’s hair from her face while the other person assumably talked. She deftly plucked the matted strands between two pinched fingers with a disgusted grimace on her face, not even bothering to glance at Mikura’s stunned expression.
“The meeting just ended. Could you not have talked to me earlier?”
Maybe it was Sakura being uptight about rules or something. But it could be her. Sakura would never go out of her way to talk to Sachiko—it wasn’t exactly a secret that she despised the way Sachiko treated her housepet. Sachiko tucked a long lock of hair behind Mikura’s ear, her finger brushing against a particularly sensitive spot nearing the back of the alpha’s neck.
Sachiko nearly snorted as Mikura all but melted into the car seat face first. “Are you serious? I have something urgent I need to attend to.” Perhaps out of curiosity, more likely the omega’s tendencies toward sadism, Mikura felt the hand return to the nape of her neck, coaxing a reluctant rumble of satisfaction out of her. A tingling feeling reverberated around each place where Sachiko twisted her baby hairs around one of her fingers, lightly pulling on it before letting it fall.
Of course it wouldn’t be near enough to satisfy her, especially in the hours to come, but it was enough to satiate her longing for more attention.
The fact that Sachiko hadn’t hung up yet indicated that whoever was on the other side of the call must have been someone important. Maybe Sayaka then? She’d also be a realistic candidate considering she was even more uptight than Sakura despite not nagging Sachiko or other higher-ups who took full advantage of the housepet system since she was absolutely smitten with its creator, Madame President Kirari herself.
“Fine,” Sachiko huffed, yanking against Mikura’s hair hard enough to elicit a pained help. “Quiet,” the omega hissed, angling her face away from the phone, “I’ll give you fifteen minutes and that’s it… You’d better keep your word.”
Mikura tilted her head to the side inquisitively, watching as Sachiko pocketed the device. “Who was that?”
“…” Sachiko glared down at her with a scrutinising gleam in her eyes. “That’s none of your concern.”
“I’d say it should— Uh, Juraku-sama…” Mikura began, her breath hitching in her throat when Sachiko retracted her hand and started taking off her blazer. “Hey!”
Sachiko flung the item onto the crouched alpha below her, leaving Mikura pawing the fabric off her face. Huffing in the air, Mikura accidentally got several deep inhales of Sachiko’s scent tinged with more than a little arousal.
“Wait…!” Mikura instinctively growled, hungry for more as she caught a glimpse of Sachiko’s exposed, flushed collarbones.
Perfect to bite on. No, Mikura scolded herself.
She watched as Sachiko briskly grabbed another perfectly folded, identical one from under the car seat and slipped it on.
“ ‘Hey wait’ what?” Sachiko challenged her, not even bothering to look at Mikura as she quickly buttoned up the blazer. “I ought to punish—”
Mikura shivered at the word.
“—you now for your disobedience. You act recklessly enough to allow yourself into a rut, you soil my clothing with your disgusting sweat and rut scent—”
Mikura ignored the fact that it had been Sachiko who decided to reach out and touch her more than twice.
“And now you delay me from my meeting.”
Well, it was literally Sachiko deciding to rant here rather than leave and fix herself up on the way. Mikura wanted to protest at how unfair Sachiko was being, but she knew she should be used to it by now.
Finished with her rant, Sachiko smoothed out her uniform. The omega stared at Mikura for a few seconds before bending down, carefully covering her hand in her discarded blazer that Mikura clutched against her chest, and then promptly wrapping that hand around the alpha’s neck. The metal buckle on her collar pressed uncomfortably hard against her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“Ah!” Mikura jerked backward as Sachiko twisted her body and pushed her against the seat. She imagined what Sachiko probably saw below her—nearly an absolute wreck of herself, chest heaving, wheezing for air, and absolutely sporting a raging hard-on by now. At least her compression shorts covered it, for better or for worse.
“You…” Sachiko ground out, “Stay here.”
“No—ah, shit.”
“Don’t even start, mutt. I better not come back and see you with your pants around your ankles, dirtying up this car more than you already have.” Sachiko scrunched up her face in disgust as if her own eyes weren’t dilated with lust. “It reeks of your rut.”
“Then hurry,” Sachiko’s brow furrowed angrily at the alpha’s plea, “please…” Mikura added, “I need you.”
Sachiko dropped her grip, watching as Mikura gulped in air. She backed out of the car, mouth slightly parted as if she wanted to say something. “I’ll be back,” Sachiko settled on, then turning around and slamming the car door shut in Mikura’s face.
“Bitch,” Mikura groaned, slumping down in the seat. She eyed the blazer still clutched in her hands and grimaced. Why did Sachiko always have to be so damn confusing? Always so cruel but then offhandedly acting in ways that could be interpreted as the sadist’s indirect methods of demonstrating affection.
She clambered to the other end of the car and curled into herself, softly whining into the starched, stiff red fabric. Hopefully Sachiko would return to her soon.