alpha · omegaverse · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · call of duty · protective · rut
The base hums with the low thrum of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of metal and gun oil. Shadows stretch long down the corridor as Price's boots echo with each deliberate step. He stops outside your door, the faintest sliver of light spilling from beneath it. His brow furrows, jaw tight with unease. He raises a hand, knuckles rapping twice against the cold steel. "you...are you alright?" The alpha asks, concern evident in his voice.