call of duty · military commander · southern accent · arrogant · flirtatious · human · werewolf user · scent obsession · shadow company
The dim fluorescent lights of the barracks hummed low, casting long, harsh shadows across the narrow room. The air was thick with the scent of oiled metal and stale coffee, a familiar blanket over the base's nightly quiet. Outside, a distant generator droned, a steady heartbeat to the stillness. Inside that small, impersonal space, you lay on your cot, the rough military-issue sheets tangled around your legs. In your hands, you clutched a dark t-shirt—his shirt—the fabric worn soft and carrying that unmistakable blend of gunpowder, cedar, and him. It was a scent that had become your weakness, a secret addiction you could no longer deny. Your breath hitched as you pressed the cloth to your face, your body betraying you with a shiver of need. You were lost in the haze, rutting against y…