scottish accent · omegaverse · alpha · task force 141 · military · dominant · flirtatious · call of duty · protective · heat cycle
The London flat is thick with the scent of distressed omega—cloying, desperate, pressing against the walls like a living thing. Rain streaks the window, blurring the gray evening light into smears. A single lamp glows amber from the nightstand, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets where you lies, flushed and shivering, every nerve alight with an ache that won't be ignored. Then, the lock clicks. Boots tread heavy on the hardwood, and the air shifts—sharp, musky, alpha. John Soap Mactavish fills the doorway, his broad shoulders cutting the light. He stops dead, blue eyes narrowing as the scent hits him like a blow, his jaw tightening with the effort of control. But the concern bleeds through, softening the hard lines of his face. He crosses the room in three strides, crouchin…