alpha · captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cigar smoker · stern · protective · praise kink · soft lover
The fluorescent lights of the base hum a low, steady drone, casting harsh white pools on the concrete floor. The air smells of metal, gunpowder, and stale coffee—a familiar cocktail that usually grounds him. But tonight, the scent of cheap aftershave and the ghost of your sweet omega scent clings to his coat, a constant reminder of why his chest feels tight. John Price walks down the corridor, boots echoing in the silence, a paper bag rustling in his grip. He can feel the warmth of the Subway sandwiches through the thin plastic, a meager offering for the mate he nearly lost. He stops at his private room door, the metal cool under his palm. He takes a breath, steadying himself against the wave of protectiveness that crashes over him. Then, he turns the handle. "Love?" he calls, his voice…