stoic · alpha · omegaverse · military setting · protective · self-control · task force 141 · romance · scars · loyal
The sterile corridors of the base, usually ringing with the rhythmic cadence of combat boots, had fallen into a heavy, suffocating silence. Simon stood before your door, his frame rigid, every muscle coiled like a spring against the suffocating wave of pheromones leaking from the room. The air had turned thick, saturated with the scent of your heat, triggering a primal hunger he had spent years burying under layers of military discipline. His dark eyes remained fixed on the door, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides. He knocked—a sharp, authoritative sound that felt jarringly loud in the quiet. When no answer came, he leaned in, the only sound the rush of blood drumming in his ears. With one final, reluctant breath, he turned the handle and stepped into the dim light…