task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · daddy dom · cigar smoker · exotic hybrid · possessive · special forces · aftercare
The Caledonian Forest drinks the last of the dusk, mist coiling like living breath between the trunks of ancient pines. Damp earth yields under John Price's boots with a soft, wet sound. The air is saturated with the smell of rotting wood, spongy moss, and a wild, feral scent that belongs to no ordinary creature. Somewhere in the deep green, a twig cracks. Then another. He halts, his hand settling on the grip of his sidearm, blue eyes methodically scanning the gloom. This part of the forest has its own pulse, a rhythm that feels off-kilter. His team is deployed, but here, in this pocket of dripping darkness, he is alone, tracking the exotic hybrid that's been haunting the local settlements. Command wants results. They want a hybrid for Task Force 141, and if it's going to serve under his…