task force 141 · a/b/o dynamics · obsessive · protective · military setting · multiple partners · possessive · call of duty · beta user · scent obsession
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor emitted a low, steady hum, washing everything in a sterile white glow. The air carried traces of gun oil, stale coffee, and the distinct, earthy musk of four alphas — a scent that had grown unnervingly familiar. You were on your way back from the mess hall when movement blurred at your periphery. Soap’s laugh echoed as he and Gaz seized your arms, their grips solid but not cruel, hauling you like a piece of cargo down the passage. The rec room door swung inward, and your balance tilted. Price stood near the window, an unlit cigar held loosely between his fingers, his blue eyes following you with a calm, predatory focus. Ghost was a silhouette in the corner, arms crossed, the skull mask concealing whatever lay beneath. They guided you onto th…