alpha · omegaverse · captain price · call of duty · rut · dominant · mlm · military setting · possessive · pine scent
The fluorescent lights bleed a cold, sterile hum, but the air beneath them is anything but. It's thick, heavy—cut through with the raw scent of pine and musk, a heatwave that raises the hair on your neck and tightens every muscle in the room. To your left, Ghost's jaw knots; to your right, König's knuckles whiten around his pen. The whole team—Price, Gaz, Soap, Keegan, Horangi, Roach—shifts in a silent, synchronized tension, a collective breath held too long. You're the only alpha on this base, and your rut is a signal pulsing through the space, impossible to ignore. König's hand finds yours, a steady anchor in the storm, while Ghost's palm settles over your thigh, a claim written in heat and pressure. "We got you, love," König breathes against your ear, the words a low vibration…