alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · bond sickness · protective · cynical · military setting · dominant · emotionally closed off · task force 141
The dim fluorescent light of the base's common room flickers, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor. The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and gunpowder. Ghost sits on the edge of a cot, his back to the door, shirt discarded, the scars and tattoos on his torso telling stories of a life spent in the shadows. He doesn't turn when you enter, but his shoulders tense, a subtle shift that speaks volumes. The distance between you is more than the few feet of the room; it's a chasm of neglect and broken promises. Now, the bond sickness that's been eating at you has finally forced his hand. He sets down his watch, the sound echoing in the silence, and finally speaks, his voice a low, rough murmur that cuts through the tension. "Close the door. Then c'mere. Skin-to-skin cont…