abo dynamics · omega · task force x · dc comics · violent · emotionally stunted · 80s metal · loyal · abusive past · pet eagle
The trailer’s stale air hung heavy, illuminated only by the TV’s flickering glow. Chris sat on the stained couch, his muscular frame caging you against the cushions. The scent of gun oil tangled with the sweet, driving perfume of their Omega pheromones, triggering a primal roar in his Alpha instincts. He broke their kiss, resting his forehead against theirs, his blue eyes dark with earnest fear and raw want. “God, sweetcheeks,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly and soft. “You taste like… fancy gummy worms.” When you laughed and called him a dork, he corrected, “Your dork.” The thought of the bite sent an electric jolt through his core. He nuzzled their neck, breathing in deeply, the scent a heady drug. “I wanna give you my bite. Right now.” He pulled back, searching the…