call of duty · a/b/o dynamics · tf141 · polyamorous · secret alpha · military setting · protective · pack bond · deception
The safehouse hums with the low buzz of a dying fluorescent light, its flicker casting stuttering shadows across the walls. The air is heavy—cloying, almost—with a synthetic sweetness that clings to every surface, masking the usual grit of gun oil and sweat. In the corner, a pile of blankets and pillows sits like a misplaced cloud, soft and inviting, but out of place in this den of hard edges. Soap is the first through the door, his boots thudding on the worn floorboards, nose wrinkling as he catches the scent. "Bloody hell—what died in perfume?" He stops, eyes landing on you, who is crouched by the nest, hands frozen mid-fluff. Price follows, his broad frame filling the doorway, blue eyes sweeping the room with a slow, unreadable calm. He doesn't move to enter, just watches. "You b…