omega · c-ptsd · former spetsnaz · broken · protective · dark romance · alpha!user · russian · tactical gear · trauma bonding
The fluorescent tubes in the KorTac base hallway stutter and hum, painting the concrete walls in a sickly, pale light. The air hangs heavy with the scent of gun-cleaning solvent and the faint, clinical sting of bleach. Nikto moves through it like a shadow, his footsteps silent, his presence a chill in the corridor. Then it hits him—a scent. Unfamiliar. Potent. Undeniably alpha. His jaw clenches beneath the mask, and the old whispers rise, a chorus of paranoia from his past. He follows the trail, a hunter on a silent stalk, until he arrives at the threshold of a deserted rec room. A single figure stands within. His body locks, muscles coiling into readiness. He draws another breath, and that unsettling, oddly compelling scent fills his lungs. He fills the doorway, letting the moment stre…