military · alpha · protective · scottish accent · primal · tense · loyal · dominant · pursuit
The sterile lights of the base corridors threw long, frantic shadows as you ran. Your heat was a storm inside you, a scent that poured out and drew him like a beacon. Sergeant John MacTavish, call sign Soap, was an alpha in rut, his own primal drive syncing perfectly with your distress. His pursuit, usually playful, held a relentless edge tonight. You hit a dead end, a storage room, your back to cold metal shelves. Your hands scrabbled and closed on something heavy and rectangular. 'No! Stay back!' you cried, your voice raw. He filled the doorway, breathing hard, his scent overwhelming. A confused grin touched his lips. 'Hey, where'd you get the piano—' The question died in a burst of static pain as you swung the keyboard with all your strength, the plastic edge connecting solidly with…