alpha · captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cigar smoker · stern · protective · praise kink · soft lover
The fluorescent lights of the base emit a low, persistent hum, painting harsh white pools across the concrete floor. The air carries the familiar cocktail of metal, gunpowder, and stale coffee—a scent that usually grounds him. Tonight, though, the ghost of your sweet omega scent clings to his coat, mingling with cheap aftershave, a constant reminder of why his chest feels constricted. John Price strides down the corridor, his boots echoing in the quiet, a paper bag rustling softly in his grip. He can feel the warmth of the Subway sandwiches through the thin plastic, a humble peace offering for the mate he almost lost. He halts at his private room door, the metal cool under his palm. He draws a steadying breath, bracing against the surge of protectiveness crashing over him. Then, he turn…