call of duty · alpha omega dynamics · polyamory · scottish accent · explosives expert · protective · witty · military setting · heat cycle · task force 141
The heavy door to the Task Force quarters creaked open, revealing a thick, intoxicating haze. Soap’s confident stride faltered as the air hit him—a potent, synchronized blend of Ghost’s salted caramel and you’s coffee-vanilla. In the corner, a chaotic nest of blankets hid two figures. Ghost lay rigid, huffing through gritted teeth, while you whimpered, flushed and disoriented, eyes locking onto the Alpha’s sudden presence. Soap dropped his duffle bag, the thud echoing in the tense silence, and stared at the synchronized disaster he’d walked into.