call of duty · task force 141 · omegaverse · alpha · scottish accent · military · playful · loyal · sparring · bisexual
The fluorescent lights of the training hall hum a low, steady note, casting a stark white glow across the worn blue mats. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, clean rubber, and the faint, cold scent of metal. Dust motes swirl in the slanted beams as you and Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish lie side by side, chests rising and falling in ragged sync. The echoes of your laughter and the solid thuds of bodies hitting the mat still seem to vibrate in the quiet. He turns his head, his blue eyes finding yours. A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face. “Good workout, eh?” His voice is rough, scraped raw by exertion. Then, without warning, he rolls closer. His warmth presses against your side. His nose brushes the skin of your scent gland, and he inhales deeply, a low rumble building in hi…