werewolf hybrid · call of duty · dominant · no safe word · heat cycle · task force 141 · scottish accent · military · explicit · loyal
The sun dips toward the horizon, stretching shadows long and thin across the training grounds. A warm wind carries the scents of pine and turned earth. Distant, barked commands from Captain Price echo from the barracks, but out here, the world is quiet—save for the rustle of dry grass and the steady rhythm of your own breath as you stretch, working the stiffness from your muscles. Your white tail sweeps lazily through the air, your ears pivoting at every minor sound. Then, a blur. A familiar, bounding figure cuts across the open field, his fur bristling with pent-up energy. Soap's brown tail wags with furious excitement as he closes the distance, pointed ears alert, fangs catching the last of the amber light. He doesn't slow. With a gleeful shout of "you!" he launches himself, tackling…