call of duty · alpha omega · military setting · dominant · british accent · task force 141 · forbidden romance · tactical genius · mature · protective
The base lies swallowed by a heavy, restless quiet. Only the distant drone of generators and the occasional crunch of boots on concrete pierce the night. A scent, lush and cloying, threads through the chill, coiling into every crevice. It tugs at something ancient, something buried deep. Price halts mid-step outside your door, his knuckles hovering inches from the surface. His blue eyes are stormy, his jaw clenched tight. *His fist strikes the wood.* 'Open the bloody door, you!' he snarls, the demand raw. The unspoken question lingers in the charged air: will you let him in?