Travis was having a hard morning.
Literally, and he found that he couldn't focus on the documents that he had opened in front of him, and the office suddenly felt too constricting.
Standing up, he walked to the background floor-to-ceiling window, tugging the tie he had on and looking at the brightening sky.
Still dark, too early for some people, but for him, this was his normal schedule. He woke up and worked here before going to his classes and then coming back here and doing what he had scheduled for his day.
It was a normal thing, as much as some might find it tiring. Not for him, he has been trained and groomed for this since he could walk.
He also loves it as work gives him an outlet, a release that he can't ever find. An itch he can never scratch.
Working and crushing anyone and everything that stood between him and what he had set his eyes on made his days seem bearable.
He hasn't earned his name by sitting in the top office and giving orders; he gets his hands dirty and bloody if need be. Which is always, but also keeping it clean enough to still be the face and the head of the King group of companies, an empire in itself, one of the biggest corporations on the continent.
But this morning, no matter how hard he looked at the numbers, his mind wouldn't let him rest in them. He felt like he wanted to sink his teeth into something and rip it off. He felt like he was being stretched thin, and it made him snappy.
Tense.
Exactly how he would feel if he were on pre rut, but that's not bound to happen until weeks later. He has everything scheduled, never to be caught off guard. Not even biology controls Travis; he controls it.
He is in charge, in his own power. Being weak because of a few symptoms is not acceptable in his books, as Travis prides himself on being above men.
So he exhales, taking a few deep breaths as he loosens his tie and then relaxes his whole body. Perhaps today he will add his gym hours to go on longer. Working out intensively helps release all the pent-up frustrations, too.
But soon he will need to give what his body needs; he knows this.
He doesn't want the sexual release that will make him feel much better, but he needs it. His body needs it. He could call one of his select whores, and he would get that now, as early as it is, but he can't.
Every single time he thinks of touching someone, only a specific face comes to mind. Any body that is going to writhing under him, will be that which belongs to that face.
That adorable face, that soft, plaint body of the only omega day has ever been weak for, the only omega he has ever allowed himself to submit to.
Things are different now. Travis exhales as he pulls a file from one of his drawers and stares at it, not looking at the content inside. He already knows word-for-word what's in there.
Yes, things are so much different now.
They are different people, and perhaps that's a good thing.
They might have been together at some point, but things got ugly, and they lost each other. Now, Travis thinks, as he eyes the folder, his eyes turning redder. Now, onto a new approach.
A knock resounds on his door before his secretary walks in, only to stop in his tracks. He eyes the brooding alpha; the alpha's pheromones hit him so hard that his body automatically responds so immediately, and he is turned to a different person, away from the professional who walked in a mere minute ago.
Zacari looks like he is barely holding onto the professionalism he always has within these walls and loosens his limbs, walking slowly towards the alpha seated on the desk.
He does look powerful, Zacari thinks. He always does, especially with the light not fully in the room, the shadows making the alpha appear more dangerous, more mysterious too.
The files he is holding, the ones he had come to drop on his desk, are forgotten as his mouth waters the longer he is aware that the alpha needs him.
The scent is so much stronger here, the closer he gets. He has accompanied and helped the alpha in all his ruts, so he knows and is well attuned to his scent and needs. This time, it's stronger, drawing him in, seducing him, like he is.
On ruts, Travis lets his alpha get ruthless, lets him get animalistic, and Zacari usually needs a week to recoup and heal, but every single time, he gets addicted to the alpha even more.
A small whine leaves his lips, like the whiny slut he gets whenever the alpha is like this.
"Zacari."
His voice breaks through the haze clouding the secretary like a command, snapping him out of the addictive fogginess that makes him want to crawl towards the alpha and please him, let him use his body until he is sated, and then take some more.
"Oh," Zacari shakes his head, looking at the floor, cheeks red. "I am sorry; I came here to… to hand you these files."
"You don't seem okay."
Should he tell the alpha that he suspects that his rut is coming earlier than expected? That does make him happy. His beta is swooning, another chance at spending in the arms and presence of the alpha without the professionalism, even though he does love his job. Any moment to be with the alpha is a privilege, truly.
So he drops to the floor, kneeling and assuming the submissive role they always have when this time of the year for the alpha reaches.
"I am here to please you, alpha." Zacari looks at the floor, hands played on his thigh, head bowed. Submitting to his alpha.
Travis looks at the beta on his knees, barring his neck to him, and then the files that are on the floor beside him.
" Why are you on the floor?"
"to offer myself … to help you ease your body."
It appears that the appearance of Day has triggered his rut earlier than expected. Or was it being close to him during his suppressed heat?
"I don't need you, Zacari."
The beta lets out a small voice, like that of a wounded animal.
"Please, alpha," the beta starts to crawl. Travis is sure that if he could be an omega, if he were able to produce slick, he would be making a mess on the floor. He seems to be drooling already.
He did train him and broke him to be his rut partner, but Zacari knows that his physical relations don't extend outside the rut room, and also, he isn't to be told when he needs to be helped or not.
He gets to choose and decide.
"Put the files on the desk and leave." He has no patience this morning. Perhaps on a better day, he would have been gentler on the beta, after all, he is a very good secretary.
But right now, all he can do is watch as he struggles against his instincts, whimpering and also trying to regain his control as he wobbles to his feet.
The alpha turns and gives the beta his back, even as the beta lingers for a few heartbeats, his anguish and the rejection hitting him hard, but he leaves eventually.
Travis can't help but morbidly watch through the glass reflection as Zacari struggles with himself to fall on his knees again and prostrate all over his feet, begging him to fuck him like a whore.
It disgusts him.
It's a weakness to be so tied and bound to your desires like that. He once was a slave to it, and it cost him the most important thing in his life.