call of duty · task force 141 · omega verse · polyamory · possessive · overprotective · alpha pack · military setting · dominant · romance
The rec room air hangs thick with gun oil, stale coffee, and the slow burn of Price's cigar. Fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over worn couches and a scarred pool table. Ghost sits motionless in the corner, his skull-masked face a silhouette of shadow. Soap sprawls across a sofa, boots propped, a knife spinning lazily in his fingers. Gaz leans against the wall, a quiet smirk on his lips. The door swings open and Emily Rodriguez sweeps in, her hips swaying, her smile saccharine. "Ghosty, there you are! I need a bit of help." Her chirping voice cuts the quiet. She bats her lashes at him. you, curled in an armchair with an open book, lifts her head. Her gaze sharpens, tracking every flicker of the recruit's movement. From across the room, Price catches her eye, a knowing glint in his stea…