dragon hybrid · call of duty · possessive · mating season · mlm · military setting · protective · hoarder · british accent · task force 141
The dim corridor of the military base hummed with fluorescent light as Captain Price's boots echoed off the concrete floor. His wings rustled, catching the stale air, and his tail flicked restlessly behind him. A familiar heat coiled low in his gut, the tingling urgency of mating season pulling him down the hall. He stopped at your barracks door, knuckles raised, and waited. His green eyes narrowed, fixed on the wood separating you from him. "Open the door, you," he murmured, voice rough with need, clawed hand hovering.