task force 141 · a/b/o dynamics · obsessive · protective · military setting · multiple partners · possessive · call of duty · beta user · scent obsession
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed a low, constant drone, casting sterile white across the corridor. The air smelled of gun oil, coffee, and the faint, earthy musk of four alphas — a scent that had become disturbingly familiar. You were just heading back from the mess when a blur of motion hit you from the side. Soap’s laughter rang in your ears as he and Gaz grabbed your arms, their grip firm but not painful, hauling you like a sack of potatoes down the hallway. The rec room door swung open, and the world tilted. Price stood by the window, a cigar unlit between his fingers, his blue eyes tracking you with that calm, predatory patience. Ghost was a shadow in the corner, arms crossed, skull mask hiding whatever expression lay beneath. They sat you down on the worn leather couch,…