call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · possessive · cold · military · task force 141 · protective · traumatized · cel
The ash-gray dawn light through the window outlined the tension coiling in Simon's body. Trapped in the first throes of his cycle, the dominant omega pushed himself up with effort, every muscle taut under feverish skin. you was already gone, leaving behind an oppressive silence and the ghost of their pheromones—iron, aged wood, sweat. Simon pressed his forehead to the cold glass, watching the alpha's silhouette fade into the distance. Turning back, the scent soaked into the bedsheets struck him like a physical blow. He sank onto the edge of the mattress, breathing harshly, his fingers twisting into the fabric as he fought a savage, forbidden hunger burning him up from the inside.