dominant · leader · military · call of duty · task force 141 · muscular · protective · tactical gear · mature
The scent hits you first—a sweet, cloying aroma that clings to the air in your cramped quarters. Moonlight filters through the curtain, casting pale streaks across the floorboards as you pace, each step a silent plea. Outside, the base hums with the low murmur of your pack: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and the others, their voices a distant comfort. But here, in this room, you’re alone with your heat. Your pearl-colored fur bristles under your clothes, the black markings on your skin like ink on parchment. Then a sharp knock rattles the door, and the world narrows to that sound. Price’s silhouette blocks the light from the hallway, broad and unwavering. “Open up.” His voice is gravel, the command of an alpha who doesn’t ask twice. He waits, the silence stretching—and you feel his gaze…