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Forever Young had learned patience from watching races, and not just her own, though she'd studied those replays until she could recite every stride. Hundreds of others, thousands maybe — racing history and strategy sessions and poker tournaments on late-night television, and all of it taught the same lesson. Timing was everything.
Three weeks. That was how long she'd been playing this game with Sakura-san, and three weeks was generous considering how easy this should have been. Three weeks of catching those stolen glances during drills and watching her trainer's eyes trace her spine before jerking away like she'd been caught at something illegal. Three weeks of stretching a beat longer than necessary and arching just so, and three weeks of casual contact — a hand on Sakura's shoulder during strategy talks, arms brushing during cool-downs, her tail "accidentally" swishing against her trainer's leg whenever she passed close enough for it to land.
Every time, Sakura flustered and blushed and looked away, and every time it was fucking adorable.
Friday evening was what she'd been waiting for. The training room was empty because she'd checked the schedule three times, and the late spring sun through the high windows turned everything amber. Romantic, almost, not that this was about romance.
This was about winning.
Forever Young stretched against the wall, one leg extended behind her in a runner's lunge. She could feel Sakura's eyes on her immediately and because of it, she held the position longer than necessary and then straightened and rolled her shoulders. The joints popped audibly and she watched out of the corner of her eye as Sakura's gaze jerked back to her laptop, cheeks oh so pink.
Too easy.
"Hey, Sakura-san," she said, approaching lightly. "Got a minute? I got a question about the schedule."
Sakura looked up, her professional mask sliding into place on cue. The neutral expression, while good, couldn't quite hide the pulse jumping in her throat. She was twenty-eight years old and still trying to pretend she was immune.
"Yeah, sure. What's up?"
Forever Young crossed the room slowly and let the sunlight catch in her hair as she moved, and she saw Sakura's eyes track the swish of her tail before Sakura caught herself and looked away. There it was — that little tell, the same one she'd been cataloguing for weeks.
"Just wondering about strategy for Breeders' Cup," she said, leaning against the bench close enough to feel the heat off Sakura's body, though not close enough to touch. Not yet. "Been thinking about the name, actually. Breeders' Cup. Kind of weird, right?"
She already knew the answer because she'd researched it weeks ago, and she could probably write a dissertation on the naming convention if anyone asked. That wasn't the point. The point was getting Sakura talking, because a talking Sakura was a Sakura who wasn't bracing against what was coming.
"I guess?" Sakura shifted the laptop to make space, and her fingers tapped against the edge of it the way they always did when she was nervous — a tic she probably didn't know she had, though Forever Young had clocked it weeks ago. "Never really thought about it."
"But like, what does it actually mean? The breeding part." She tilted her head and let her ears perk forward, harmless and curious. "Seems like there's history there. You know about that stuff."
Sakura's throat worked as she swallowed. "Um. It's just the name of the event. I don't think it's that deep."
Flustered already. Good.
"Huh." Forever Young let the moment stretch and let Sakura notice how close they were. "Shame. Thought you might know something interesting."
She pushed off the bench and started to turn away, counting in her head. One. Two. Three.
"Wait — I mean, I could look it up if you really want to know?"
Bingo.
The words tumbled out exactly the way she'd predicted they would, and Sakura's cheeks flushed darker as soon as she heard herself say them. Forever Young had to suppress a grin.
"Nah, don't worry about it," she said, throwing the grin over her shoulder anyway, cocky. "Unless you're curious too?"
"I — maybe a little."
Hook set.
She turned back and closed the distance again, and this time she sat down on the bench close enough that their knees almost touched. Close enough to watch Sakura's pupils dilate a fraction, close enough to catch the subtle shift in her scent that meant arousal was starting to override caution.
"Tell you what," she said. "You help me understand all the context, and I'll owe you one. Fair trade?"
Sakura's breath caught and Forever Young watched her process the implication. I'll owe you one — loaded, delivered with just enough innocence to hold plausible deniability if anyone ever asked.
"You don't owe me anything. It's my job to help you understand race contexts."
So professional.
"Still. I appreciate you staying late." She reached into her gym bag with practiced casualness and pulled out the two sports drinks she'd prepared earlier — same brand, same flavor, one doctored and one clean. She'd gotten the supplies last week from the team medic, complaining about pre-race jitters, and it had been easy because it was always easy when people trusted you. Two capsules' worth, carefully measured. Not enough to knock Sakura out, just enough to lower her inhibitions and make her stop overthinking every goddamn thing. She knew the dosage and the timeline because she'd done her research — fifteen minutes to kick in, two to three hours of peak effect, and out of Sakura's system by morning.
"Here. You've been looking at that screen forever. Hydration break."
"Oh. Thanks." Sakura took the doctored drink without hesitation, completely trusting, and said, "You didn't have to."
Yeah, I did.
"It's whatever." Forever Young cracked her own clean bottle and took a long pull, making a show of it because normalcy was the whole trick. "So. Breeders' Cup history. You were saying?"
Sakura opened her drink and sipped absently while she pulled up something on her phone, and then she started explaining with her voice taking on that animated quality it got when she talked about things she actually cared about. Cute when she was enthusiastic, really — Forever Young had noticed that on day one. She listened with half her attention and let the other half stay on observation, tracking the drugs as they started to work.
Twelve minutes in, Sakura's gestures started getting looser. Fourteen, her speech slowed. Sixteen, the tension in her shoulders began to unwind, and by twenty minutes Sakura had set her phone down and leaned back against the wall with a small sigh, the drink dangling from her fingers almost empty.
"Sorry, I'm rambling." She laughed, and it was looser than Forever Young had ever heard from her. "This is probably boring."
"Not at all." Forever Young shifted closer and let their knees touch this time, and she watched Sakura's eyes flicker down to the point of contact and back up. "I like when you get into the details."
"Just research." But Sakura smiled, genuine and unguarded, and the mask was cracking so beautifully it almost hurt.
Forever Young plucked the bottle from Sakura's loose grip and set both drinks aside. Time to move.
"I'm not most uma musume," she said. "And you're not most trainers, are you, Sakura-san?"
Sakura blinked slowly because processing was delayed now. "What?"
"Come on." Forever Young let her voice drop warm and low and let her tail swish so the tip brushed Sakura's leg. "You think I haven't noticed you watching me. Three weeks of those looks. Thought you'd make a move eventually."
She watched denial form and try to surface and get stuck somewhere in the drug-softened pathways of Sakura's brain, and it was beautiful to watch in its own way.
"I don't — I wasn't —"
Weak.
"It's okay." She traced her fingers along Sakura's forearm and felt the muscle jump beneath her touch, and goosebumps rose in the wake of her fingertips. "I've been watching too. Wondering when you'd get brave enough to do something about it."
"I'm your trainer. That would be inappropriate."
Autopilot, no conviction behind it, and Forever Young could smell the arousal now — sharp and sweet under Sakura's usual scent, and it was confirmation enough.
Got you.
"Would it?" She walked her fingers up to Sakura's shoulder and felt her shiver. "Or would it be two adults making a choice?"
"Young —"
"Forever Young," she corrected, leaning in so her lips brushed Sakura's ear and feeling her whole body go taut. "Say the whole thing."
"Forever Young." Breathless, barely audible, and the thrill that shot through her was electric — her name in that tone, Sakura right on the edge of surrender, and it was better than crossing any finish line she'd ever crossed.
"Better." She pulled back just enough to meet her eyes and watched the pupils blow wide with want. "Now. You asked about the Breeders' Cup name, right? Want me to show you what it really means?"
Sakura's expression flickered through confusion and desire, and the drugs made it impossible for her to hold onto her objections. "That's — not what I asked."
"No?" Forever Young's hand slid to Sakura's neck and her thumb pressed against the pulse there, and it hammered against her finger fast and hard. "Could've sworn you were asking me to breed you."
The sharp intake of breath was gratifying, and so was the crack in Sakura's voice when she tried to protest.
"I wasn't —"
"Your body's saying something different." Forever Young could feel every betraying signal — the racing pulse, the flushed skin, the way Sakura unconsciously leaned into her touch. "You're so tense, Sakura-san. When's the last time you relaxed?"
"I don't — I'm fine —"
Liar.
"You're wound tight as a spring." Her other hand found Sakura's thigh and rested there with deliberate casualness. "Let me help. You do so much for me and for everyone else here. You deserve to feel good."
Sakura's breathing went shallow and her scent shifted, and the drugs were doing exactly what Forever Young had calculated they would, because she'd planned this whole thing down to the minute.
"Just relax." She kept her voice soft, the same tone she used for skittish horses. "You trust me, don't you?"
"Yeah."
No hesitation, and her heart kicked up a notch at that single word. You actually trust me. And I'm using that trust to seduce you. Should probably feel bad.
She didn't.
"Then trust me now." She stood and pulled Sakura up with her, and when Sakura swayed Forever Young caught her waist to steady her and enjoyed the way Sakura's hands grabbed her arms for balance. "Come here."
She guided them to the mat area and settled behind Sakura and pulled her back against her chest, letting her feel the warmth and the safety of being held.
"What are you —"
"Shh. Just a massage. You're always so stressed."
She found Sakura's shoulders and started working the knots, and the sound Sakura made was small and almost a whimper, and satisfaction curled through Forever Young's gut like smoke. She worked in silence, methodical and patient, and she felt Sakura melt under her hands as each knot released and each release sent her a little deeper into Forever Young, until she was boneless with her head lolling back against Forever Young's shoulder.
"Feel good?"
"Mmm."
Almost nonverbal, and Forever Young let her lips brush Sakura's ear and felt the full-body shiver that produced.
"Gonna make you feel even better."
Her hands slid forward, over Sakura's collarbones and down to cup her breasts through her shirt, and Sakura tensed as some instinct fired through the drug haze.
"We shouldn't —"
"Why not?" She kept her touch gentle and non-threatening. "Nobody's here. Just you and me."
She brushed her thumb over Sakura's nipple through the fabric and felt it peak under her touch, and she said, "And you want this. I can tell."
Sakura's head fell back against her shoulder. "I do. God, I do, but —"
"No buts." Forever Young nipped her earlobe, claiming. "Stop thinking so much. Just feel."
Then she took her time, mapping every response and cataloguing what made Sakura gasp and what made her arch and what made that needy sound catch in her throat. The drugs kept her pliant without dulling the responses, and every touch registered and sent pleasure signals that Sakura couldn't filter or deny, and that was exactly what Forever Young had counted on.
She got Sakura's shirt off after long, teasing minutes, and the bra followed, and then she had access to bare skin — pale and soft under her calloused hands. She traced patterns and circled without quite touching, building the anticipation until Sakura was squirming against her.
"Please."
Music.
"Please what?" Forever Young smiled against Sakura's neck. "Use your words, Sakura-san."
"Touch me."
"Where?"
She made Sakura specify because making her specify made her complicit, and complicit was the whole point.
"My — fuck — my chest. Please."
Forever Young rewarded the ask, palming her properly and rolling her nipples between her fingers with just enough pressure to make her back arch.
"You're so sensitive here," she murmured, and punctuated it with a harder squeeze. "Bet you think about this. Late at night when you're alone. Bet you think about me."
The choked sound Sakura made was all the confirmation she needed.
"Do you touch yourself when you think about me?"
Sakura tried to dodge, embarrassment fighting through the haze. "I — I can't —"
"You can tell me." Forever Young soothed the command with her tongue and licked the bite mark she'd just left. "I think about you too. All the time. Think about getting my hands on you and making you fall apart."
Which was true, actually — she'd spent weeks fantasizing about this exact scenario, and the reality was exceeding the fantasy in every dimension. Sakura's scent, her sounds, the way she melted under Forever Young's touch — all of it was better than she'd imagined, and she'd imagined a lot.
"Young — Forever Young —"
"That's it." One hand slid lower and palmed Sakura through her shorts, and the fabric was damp exactly the way Forever Young had known it would be. Her own underwear was soaked too, but this wasn't about her. Not yet. "You're so wet already. How long have you been like this?"
"Weeks."
The admission tore out of Sakura raw and honest, and Forever Young's grin widened with triumph.
"Since you — since that race when you —"
"When I what?" She pressed harder, finding Sakura's clit through the layers. "Tell me."
"Smiled at me. In the winner's circle. Like you knew."
"I did know," Forever Young said, because it was true and she saw no reason to deny it now. "Could see it all over your face."
She withdrew her hand entirely and ignored Sakura's whimper of loss, because this next part needed to happen in stages and she needed Sakura exposed and vulnerable and completely at her mercy.
"Stand up."
It took Sakura two tries because her coordination was shot, and Forever Young rose smoothly behind her and turned her around and walked her backward until her legs hit the bench. One gentle push and Sakura sat down hard.
"Stay there." Forever Young pulled her own tank top off slowly and deliberately and watched Sakura's eyes go dark tracking the movement. She stripped the rest of the way — track pants, sports bra, everything except the fedora — and stood naked and let Sakura stare.
"Like what you see?"
Sakura's mouth had fallen open, and Forever Young's ears perked forward while her tail swished once, smug.
"You can touch. Go ahead."
Sakura's hands came up tentatively and Forever Young caught her wrists.
"Harder than that. I won't break."
She guided Sakura's hands and showed her the pressure she wanted and then let her explore, standing patient and still while Sakura mapped muscle and curve. Her ears tracked every touch and her tail swished with approval, and the touches felt good — not just physically, though that was pleasant, but emotionally too, because being explored and appreciated and wanted by someone who'd fought wanting her was a different kind of high than the casual hookups she was used to.
Sweeter because you fought it.
"Good," she said after letting Sakura have her fill, and pulled back. "Now it's my turn."
She stripped Sakura quick and practical with no ceremony, got her naked and spread out on the bench with her legs hanging over the edge, and when Sakura tried to cover herself Forever Young caught her wrists and pinned them above her head.
"None of that. I want to see all of you."
She held Sakura's gaze and let her see the hunger there, and watched her flush darker and stop fighting.
"Stay put." Forever Young released her wrists and dropped to her knees between Sakura's legs and wrapped her hands around those trembling thighs. "Gonna taste you now."
"Wait —"
Sakura tried to close her legs and Forever Young held them open with easy strength, the kind of strength an athlete who could run for miles had without thinking about it.
"Relax. This is going to feel incredible. Promise."
She didn't wait for permission and just buried her face between Sakura's legs and got to work.
Fuck. Even better than I imagined.
Salt and something sweeter underneath, the scent overwhelming at this proximity, and Forever Young worked her slowly and methodically with long strokes of her tongue as she learned the terrain. Her ears tracked every sound Sakura made and she used those sounds to guide her movements, because this was what Forever Young was good at — reading her opponent and finding the weakness and exploiting it, and Sakura was an open book right now with every response visible and every pleasure point easy to find.
She alternated between broad strokes and focused attention and built Sakura up slowly, pulling back whenever she got close to the edge, making it last and making her desperate and breaking down the last shreds of resistance until there was nothing left but need.
"Please — god — please —"
There it is.
"Please, Forever Young, I need — I can't —"
Forever Young pulled back entirely and watched Sakura whine with frustration, watched her trainer — professional, composed Sakura — reduced to this desperate and needy mess.
"What do you need?"
"You know what I —"
"Say it."
"Make me come. Please, Forever Young, make me come."
She dove back in and added two fingers this time, curling them to find the spot that made Sakura's eyes roll back, and she worked Sakura's clit with her tongue while her fingers pumped steady and deep, and she felt the moment Sakura shattered completely.
The orgasm hit hard — Sakura's whole body seized and her thighs clamped around Forever Young's head hard enough to make her ears ring, and her inner walls fluttered around Forever Young's fingers. Forever Young worked her through it and drew it out until she was sobbing, loving every second of Sakura falling apart on her tongue.
She pulled back and wiped her mouth and looked up at Sakura sprawled on the bench with her chest heaving and her skin flushed and her eyes glazed.
"Good girl. But we're not done yet."
Sakura's weak protest died as Forever Young hauled her up and turned her around and bent her over the bench with practiced ease.
"Hands on the seat. Arch your back for me."
Legs spread wide, back arched, completely exposed, and Forever Young ran her hands over Sakura's ass and squeezed and landed a light slap that made her yelp.
"So fucking pretty like this. All spread out for me. Dripping. You needed this, didn't you?"
"Yes. Needed you."
Forever Young slid three fingers in without warning and felt Sakura take them easily, and she heard her cry out at the sudden fullness.
"You needed me. Not the other way around. Remember that."
She set a brutal pace and made obscene sounds echo through the training room and made Sakura struggle to hold herself up, and her tail wrapped around Sakura's leg for extra control and extra possession.
"This what you imagined? When you touched yourself thinking about me?"
"God — yes — fuck yes —"
"Louder. Want everyone in this building to hear you getting fucked."
She added a fourth finger and watched Sakura's back bow as she struggled to accommodate it, and the stretch was intense because four fingers was a lot, especially for someone who probably hadn't been fucked properly in a while.
"Come on my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel."
Sakura lasted maybe ten more thrusts before she came again, harder than before, and her legs gave out completely so only Forever Young's hold kept her from collapsing.
She withdrew carefully and scooped Sakura up and carried her to the mat, laying her down and stretching out beside her and pulling her close.
"You okay? Talk to me."
Sakura's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and Forever Young felt a flicker of concern, wondering for half a second if she'd pushed too hard, but Sakura's breathing was steady and her pulse was strong under Forever Young's hand.
"I — yeah. I think? What — what was in that drink?"
Forever Young's smile was all sharp edges and no apology, and she figured she might as well tell the truth because Sakura couldn't do anything about it now.
"Just some stuff to help you relax. Melatonin. Muscle relaxant. Nothing you won't sleep off."
"You — you drugged me?"
"Little bit. But you wanted this. I just helped you stop overthinking."
She watched Sakura try to process that and watched the drugs make the outrage slip away before it could solidify, exactly as she'd predicted.
"That's fucked up."
"Maybe. But you enjoyed it. Every second."
Her tail curled around Sakura's waist, possessive, and she could feel Sakura's heartbeat against her chest and smell sex and satisfaction on both of them.
"And you're going to enjoy what comes next too."
The rest of the evening was exactly what she'd planned. She took her time and made Sakura come again on her tongue and then rode her face until her own orgasm crashed through her like thunder, using Sakura for her own pleasure and establishing ownership and making it clear who was in control. By the time they left for her apartment, Sakura was too fucked-out to resist and too overwhelmed to do anything but follow.
Forever Young's apartment welcomed them with soft lighting and expensive furniture. She guided Sakura to the shower and helped her clean up with gentler hands than she'd expected of herself, then dressed her in Forever Young's own clothes because marking territory was worth doing properly.
While Sakura showered, Forever Young ordered food and changed the sheets on her bed, because practical considerations mattered and she wanted Sakura comfortable and she wanted her to stay. When Sakura emerged small and uncertain in Forever Young's oversized clothes, something in her chest tightened in a way she hadn't planned for.
"Sit. Eat. Then we can talk about tomorrow."
They ate in comfortable silence and Forever Young found herself enjoying just being with Sakura — not fucking her, not seducing her, just sitting beside her and eating takeout, and it was nice in a way that felt unexpected.
Didn't plan on liking you past the conquest.
"Why me?" Sakura asked quietly.
Forever Young considered the question and thought about giving the flippant answer, but something about the moment called for honesty.
"Because you tried not to want me and failed anyway."
It was true, she thought, because there were plenty of people who'd throw themselves at her but Sakura had fought it, and that made finally breaking her sweeter.
"You fighting it made it better. The way you'd look at me during drills and then immediately look away like you'd done something wrong. The way your hands would shake when you had to spot me during stretches."
"I wasn't —"
"You were. And I noticed every time." Forever Young pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Been planning this for weeks. Learning your schedule, getting the supplies I needed."
"The drugs." Sakura's voice had gone hollow.
"Just a little help." Her tail wrapped around Sakura's waist automatically. "You would've said yes eventually anyway. I just got tired of waiting."
She should probably feel guilty about the drugs and about manipulating the situation and about taking away Sakura's ability to fully consent, but she didn't, because Sakura had wanted this and the drugs had just lowered the inhibitions that kept her from admitting it.
"This is wrong," Sakura whispered.
"Maybe." Forever Young's hand found the hem of the borrowed shirt and slipped beneath to rest warm against Sakura's stomach. "But it's happening anyway. And you're going to let it happen, because deep down, this is what you want."
Sakura closed her eyes and Forever Young could practically see the internal struggle playing out on her face.
"Please —"
"Shh. Stop thinking. Just feel."
Her hand moved higher and cupped Sakura's breast through the fabric of her bra, and her nipple peaked immediately under Forever Young's palm.
"See? Your body knows what it wants."
"Please —" Sakura didn't seem sure what she was asking for, and Forever Young could tell.
She chose to interpret it as permission, because the alternative was letting Sakura think her way out of something they both wanted. Her other hand slid into the shorts and found Sakura wet and ready despite everything.
"Already soaked. Bet you were thinking about this in the shower. Thinking about my hands on you."
Probably true — Forever Young could tell.
"That's it. Don't fight it."
She worked Sakura slowly and built her up with practiced ease and felt her melt under the touch, and her own arousal built in response — not just physical need, though there was plenty of that, but satisfaction and possessiveness underneath it. When she made Sakura come on the couch, when she felt her clench and pulse around her fingers, Forever Young felt a savage satisfaction that had nothing to do with physical pleasure.
This is what winning feels like.
She carried Sakura to bed afterward and held her close and let her tail wrap possessive around her waist.
"Sleep. I've got you."
As Sakura drifted off exhausted and overwhelmed, Forever Young stayed awake. Thinking. Planning. Considering.
Didn't expect to want to keep you. But I do. This isn't just about the conquest anymore. It's about you.
Saturday morning, Forever Young woke before dawn to find Sakura still asleep beside her — face peaceful, hair mussed — and she studied her for a long moment before she moved, taking in the curve of her cheek and the flutter of her eyelashes and the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
She moved carefully because she didn't want to wake Sakura yet, and she slipped under the covers and positioned herself between Sakura's legs and started working her with her tongue, slow and gentle at first. She wanted to see Sakura wake up like this — wanted to watch confusion turn to pleasure and feel her body respond before her mind fully caught up.
It took a few minutes. Sakura's breathing changed first and quickened, then her hips shifted seeking more, and then her hands fumbled for the sheets and her eyes opened.
"Morning," Forever Young said, muffled against her, and she didn't stop.
"What —" Sakura tried to think through the fog of arousal. "What time —"
"Eight AM. Saturday." She added her fingers, two of them sliding in easily. "Relax. Enjoy it."
She felt Sakura try to form a protest and watched it die as pleasure overrode thought, and her ears tracked every sound — the gasps, the whimpers, the way Sakura's breath caught when Forever Young curled her fingers just right. When Sakura came, Forever Young worked her through it with satisfaction thrumming through her own body, and then she kissed her way up Sakura's body until they were face to face.
"Good morning to you too." Her grin was pure smug. "Bet you never woke up like that before."
Sakura's face was burning. "You can't just —"
"Can't just what? Eat out my girlfriend when she's sleeping?" Forever Young kissed her and made her taste herself. "Pretty sure that's allowed."
"I'm not your girlfriend."
Forever Young's ears flicked back slightly at that, and something in her chest tightened in a way she didn't care for.
"Sure you are." She rolled them over and pinned Sakura beneath her with easy strength. "You're staying the weekend, you're sleeping in my bed, you're letting me fuck you whenever I want. That's a girlfriend."
"That's captivity."
"Semantics." Her hand slid between them and found Sakura still wet and sensitive. "You can leave anytime you want. Go ahead. Get up. Walk out."
She watched Sakura lie there not moving and not resisting, and she watched her realize she didn't want to leave.
"You're not going anywhere. You're exactly where you want to be."
Forever Young pushed three fingers inside without warning and set a rough pace from the start, making the headboard knock against the wall and making Sakura gasp and arch.
"Gonna fuck you in every room this weekend. Couch, shower, kitchen counter, balcony. Anywhere I want. And you're gonna take it and thank me after."
She meant it too — had been planning it and fantasizing about it, wanting to mark every surface of her apartment with the memory of fucking Sakura.
She made Sakura come three times in rapid succession and pushed her until she was crying and oversensitive and begging, and then she gentled immediately and pulled her close and murmured praise. The concern she felt when Sakura cried was unexpected — she hadn't planned on caring this much or on the fierce protectiveness that welled up when she saw tears.
Supposed to be just conquest. Just winning. Why do I want to hold you now.
"You're okay. I've got you. You did so well."
She carried Sakura to the bath and took care of her with gentle hands, washing her hair and soothing her sore muscles and holding her close.
"You're thinking too loud. Stop it."
Sakura sighed. "How can I not think. This whole situation is —"
"Perfect." Forever Young's arms tightened around her waist. "You're here, I'm here, and for the first time in weeks you're not lying to yourself about what you want."
"I want to not want this."
The words stung more than Forever Young expected.
"Too late for that. You're mine now. The sooner you accept it, the easier this gets."
Her hand slid lower in the water and found Sakura's clit, because she needed the reassurance and needed to feel Sakura respond and needed to know she wasn't the only one affected. When Sakura came apart in the bath, Forever Young felt something settle in her chest — satisfaction, yes, but something deeper too, something that felt dangerously close to —
No. Not going there. This is just conquest. Just winning.
Right?
The rest of the weekend blurred together beautifully. She kept her promises and fucked Sakura in every room and against every surface — kitchen counter with coffee brewing, shower with water cascading over them, balcony after dark with the city spread out below. Each time, she watched Sakura's resistance crumble a little more, watched her stop fighting and stop questioning and just surrender to the pleasure.
But Forever Young found herself enjoying more than just the sex. She enjoyed cooking breakfast together Sunday morning and watching movies curled up on the couch and the quiet moments between the fucking, the simple presence of another person in her space.
Didn't plan for this. Didn't plan for actually wanting you around.
By Sunday evening, lying tangled together in bed, Forever Young realized something had shifted. This wasn't just about conquest anymore and it wasn't just about winning. She actually liked Sakura — liked her sharp mind and her dry humor and the way she'd explain racing strategies with animated gestures, and liked the way she fit against Forever Young's side and the way her scent had started to mix with Forever Young's own.
Fuck. I didn't plan for this.
"You never gave me more drugs," Sakura said quietly.
Forever Young's tail tightened around her waist reflexively.
"Didn't need to. You stopped fighting Friday night. Everything after that was you choosing this."
"That's not —"
"It is." She pulled her closer. "You could've left. Could've said no. You didn't."
Because Sakura had chosen this and had chosen her, and that meant more than Forever Young wanted to admit.
"What happens now?"
Forever Young considered the question, because she'd planned the seduction and the conquest but the after was uncharted territory.
"Now we see where this goes. We keep it quiet at work if you want. Or we don't. Up to you."
"And if I want to end it?"
The question made her chest tighten painfully and her ears flattened against her skull before she could stop them.
"Do you?"
The silence stretched, and Forever Young held her breath waiting for Sakura's answer, surprised by how much it mattered.
"No. I don't."
The relief that flooded through her was dizzying.
"Then we don't. Simple as that."
She kissed Sakura's shoulder and felt her relax into the touch, and she felt her own tension ease.
Mine. You're mine. And you're choosing to be mine. That's everything.
Monday morning came too fast. Forever Young woke to find Sakura already awake, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Morning."
"Morning. We should talk."
"About what?"
"Ground rules. Boundaries. What this is."
Her first instinct was to claim Sakura completely and refuse any boundaries, but she forced herself to think practically because she couldn't afford to be reckless. She needed to keep her, and that meant compromise.
"This is you being mine. But sure. We can set some rules if it makes you feel better."
They talked through breakfast and established professional boundaries — no displays at the facility, maintain trainer-athlete dynamics in public — and Forever Young agreed to all of it even though part of her wanted to parade Sakura around and wanted everyone to know she was taken.
Can wait. Can be patient. Have you in private, that's what matters.
"But you're still mine. That doesn't change."
Sakura met her eyes. "Okay. I'm yours."
The words sent satisfaction curling through Forever Young like smoke.
"Damn right you are."
They left separately for the facility, but Forever Young couldn't resist a parting gesture and walked past Sakura during drills close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough to see her flush, close enough to smell her scent mixed with Forever Young's own.
Marked you. Everyone can smell it, even if they don't understand what it means.
The rest of the day was torture, because having to maintain professional distance when all Forever Young wanted was to pin Sakura against a wall and remind her who she belonged to was a special kind of hell. But she'd made promises and set boundaries, so she waited.
Three months later, Forever Young crossed the finish line at the Breeders' Cup in first place. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but she only had ears for one person. She turned and scanned the crowd and found Sakura, and she saw the pride and heat in her eyes and the way she smiled just for Forever Young.
She mouthed mine across the distance and watched Sakura flush and look away, fighting a smile.
That night in the hotel room, Forever Young pushed Sakura against the wall still riding the high of victory.
"I told you I'd show you what breeding means."
Sakura looked up at her with that mix of exasperation and desire Forever Young had come to love.
Love. Fuck. That's what this is, isn't it?
She fucked Sakura against the wall and swallowed her screams with kisses and made her come so hard her legs gave out, and afterward, holding her close, Forever Young finally admitted the truth to herself.
I love you. Didn't plan for it. Didn't expect it. But I do.
She didn't say it out loud, not yet, but Sakura seemed to understand anyway, curling into her with that soft smile that was just for Forever Young.
My Sakura.