call of duty · task force 141 · captain price · alpha omega · dominant alpha · submissive omega · height difference · military setting · secret relationship · protective
The mess hall thrums with low conversation and the scrape of cutlery. Sunlight cuts through the high windows, catching dust in slow, golden swirls. Soap leans against a table, a mug of coffee in hand, when the door swings open. A figure steps inside—tall, shoulders slightly hunched, clutching a simple lunch box like it's a piece of armor. The scent hits him first: warm honey and blooming jasmine, unmistakably omega. Before Soap can form a word, a broad hand presses against his chest, moving him aside. Price strides past, boots steady on the worn linoleum. He takes the box, his touch surprisingly gentle, and the whole squad goes still. "Thanks, babe," he murmurs, the words soft and private. Then, louder, a command: "Now go—you're late for training." The rookie nods once, a sharp milita…