I will always follow

What I like

Wrong. Everything was wrong, but Sanemi didn't know how to stop it. Sharing a rut had never been part of his plans. He wanted to be there for Tomioka—to be responsible, reliable, the support his mate needed—but he didn't want anything in return. Or so he told himself. If he were honest, perhaps he did want something: to be left alone during the chaos of his own rut.

Granted, a dry rut was a hellish experience. Sanemi had never felt worse than during those times he had to isolate himself, enduring the physical and psychological torment of suppressing his nature. Even so, he preferred that pain over the alternative: the fear that he might hurt his mate for the sake of fleeting pleasure.

This had to be a nightmare. The road to the Wind Estate felt unbearably long, every moment stretching as worry twisted in his gut. The thought of encountering an entire village of alphas, all drawn to Tomioka's irresistible scent, had Sanemi on edge. He was ready to defend his mate if it came to that—but he wasn't ready for the prospect of losing control completely, of succumbing to his instincts and taking Tomioka in the middle of nowhere. The thought alone left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Yet, it didn't take long for their carefully constructed walls to crumble. As soon as the door to the Wind Estate closed behind them, their restraint gave way to raw need. Sanemi's hands tangled in Tomioka's long hair, pulling him close with a desperation that felt primal and unstoppable. Tomioka responded in kind, their mouths crashing together in an unspoken promise. Every movement—a clash of lips, a meeting of tongues—spoke of yearning, surrender, and the push and pull of giving and taking, all at once.

He woke three days later, his rut finally over, and control of his body painstakingly restored. Sanemi blinked groggily against the dim light seeping through the room, his senses dulled but gradually sharpening as reality pulled him from the haze. Every muscle in his body ached, a deep soreness that was not entirely unknown to him and came from overexertion. His throat was raw, likely from growling and snarling, and a faint metallic taste lingered on his tongue—his own blood or Tomioka's, he wasn't sure.

The air around him was thick, saturated with the mingling of their scents. Tomioka's omega fragrance, once completely non-existent, now clung heavily to the room, layered with something deeper—sharper. The primal undertones of their shared experience lingered, wrapping around Sanemi like a smothering blanket. He had never lost control so completely before—not like this. He had never blacked out for the entirety of his rut, and he had certainly never dared to share it with an omega either. Maybe that's what made this time different.

The sheets beneath him were damp with sweat, crumpled and tangled from restless movement. His fingers brushed against fabric that was torn in places, a testament to the frenzy he could barely recall. He exhaled slowly, his breath shaky, as his resolve hardened: whatever had happened here, it would never happen again.

Pushing himself up, Sanemi winced. His joints protested, stiff from the constant strain, and his skin prickled with an uncomfortable stickiness. His eyes flickered to the side, and his breath caught for a moment.

Tomioka lay beside him, his dark hair splayed across the pillow in an unruly cascade, strands sticking to the sweat-dampened skin of his neck. His normally pale complexion was marred by dark, sprawling bruises that bloomed across his shoulders and disappeared, hidden by the bed covers. The bite at the back of his neck stood out the most—raw and swollen, the wound had reopened during the chaos, and blood had trickled down in uneven, drying streaks, leaving behind a dark, sticky sheen.

Sanemi's stomach twisted at the sight. The scent of dried blood mixed with Tomioka's omega fragrance, creating a heady, disorienting blend that seemed to wrap around him, guilt-inducing. He reached out instinctively, his fingers hovering just above Tomioka's bruised shoulder, but he stopped himself.