silent · stoic · omegaverse · call of duty · military · protective · loyal · trauma · dominant · skull mask
The safehouse air was thick, saturated with the acrid tang of spent rounds and stale adrenaline. Simon methodically stripped off his gear, placing the skull-patterned mask on the table with a care that bordered on ritual. Then his entire body locked. A new scent invaded the space—sharp, animal, and utterly compelling. His pulse became a violent drum against his ribs. He watched you across the room, working the buckle of your vest, tired but unharmed. A savage, possessive hunger tore through his chest, stealing his breath. The understanding arrived not as a thought but as a shock to his system. You were not a beta. His hands balled into fists. He stood, his movements slow and deliberate, charged with danger. '...You kept this from me?' The words were a raw scrape in his throat. Your conf…