alpha · omegaverse · tactical gear · trauma · cold · secret identity · military · dangerous · mysterious · scarred
The hallway air grew heavy, thick with the scent of suppressed desperation. Ghost pinned you against the cold wall, his chest heaving, pupils blown wide with primal need. He buried his face in the crook of you's neck, inhaling deeply, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. The secret was out; the alpha facade had crumbled. He looked up, eyes dark and intense, his voice a ragged whisper that echoed in the silence. "Fuck, you. I know the truth, please let me claim you. I am begging you."