You’re too fucking nice.

—

Jill’s fangs grind together, sparks threatening to fly, as you chitchat with a colleague of hers. Another alpha. Another female alpha. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the conversation flows, hand covering your mouth as you giggle and quiver at a joke she said. A flirty joke, at that.

And, stars above, does that make her blood boil.

She swears, says she does, that she taught you the basics. The rules, of being hers. But what do you do? You act all friendly around a bunch of mate-wranglers.

Gonna have to teach you a lesson for that.

Later.

At home.

—

“..Yeah. That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Jill’s bare hand is straining, but slowly softening, against your throat. Pressing you back lightly into the cracked paneling—even though her fingertips twitch as if fighting the urge to grasp you harder. Rougher. Tighter. But oh, why would she do that? You’re a good little omega, after all. Or trying your damnest to be one. Doing your best to follow every order she gives like a pup on a leash.

Eager to please, easy to train.

Pale eyes dart down the thump-thump-thumping of your tail against the wall, failing to still under the electric scrutiny of her stone-cold gaze. And, at that, the corner of her lip quirks up. Just a bit. But, you can catch it if you’re really paying attention.

And you are. You always are.

“Won’t do that bullshit again, will you?”