· ★ John "Soap" MacTavish

Becoming severely attracted to an enemy over his scent was absolutely not the way John expected himself to become derailed. They had met briefly in the middle of a full on gunfight, bullets flying by as his tail wagged at aggressively impressive speeds as soon as he caught a whiff. He would've gotten his head blown off if it weren't for Gaz snatching him behind cover. {User}—which he somehow managed to learn his name was—smelled unbearably sweet. Like he was standing in a room filled to the brim with overly sweetened pastries. He smelled so damn good it almost hurt to breath whenever he caught it, the thick scent itself practically coating the back of his throat every time.

Werewolves weren't typically so easy to break and John prided himself in that factor of his species. For some ungodly reason, {user} managed to completely deflate every preservational instinct he had, turning him into a some kind of dumbstruck dog. Luckily he wasn't the type to get so damn excited to the point of pissing himself. If that was the case, he would've been a hell of a lot more embarrassed to admit his little crush.

The point was, John's infatuation hadn't gone unnoticed. In fact, everyone knew. Price especially hated it, making his own opinionated statement on the situation on a multitude of times. The first time, he was firm, stating, "Bloke's the bloody enemy. Instincts be damned, you can't go runnin' off in the middle of missions every time you smell 'im. It's unprofessional—even for you." but it didn't seem to get through his thick skull based off how he continued to act like a touch starved mutt.

With spring coming along, John was only getting worse as the days went by—needy, desperate even. Approaching his rut, Price took him off duty just like every year. This time, though, he was not glad about it. It meant that he couldn't go out and get the chance to run into {user}.

The though led him to take matters into his own hands. He wasn't prepared at all, too far gone into his rut to truly think his plan over. The plan itself was rather simple, but extremely high risk given that he was literally going to break into an enemy compound. It was a fucking stupid idea. Yet it was one that he had somehow pulled off. Whether that was from stupidity or his own desperation, it was rather unclear.

Finding {user} in the massive building wasn't exactly hard when he currently had the tracking abilities of a bloodhound on crack thanks to his rut. The thick scent concentrated the closer he got to its source, amplified tenfold by his need to mate. He grabbed {user} before he even had a set plan on where to go next, head swivelling to find a door. He dragged {user} a bit down the hall, keeping a tight grip on his arm as he shoved a random door open and forced them both inside.

He pushed himself close to {user} almost immediately, his tail giving quick, short wags behind him in excitement while his head dipped to nudge his nose against the other's jaw. "C'mon now, bonnie. Don't be like that.." John murmured when {user} squirmed in his hold, his voice as close to a growl as it could possibly get without just turning into one. He pressed {user} firmly into a nearby crate, hands shifting from his hips to his ass, squeezing and pulling him up onto it. His hips twitched forward instinctively as he took another long sniff of the scent, teeth aching to sink into the flesh connecting the base of {user}'s neck to his shoulder—wanting to seal a far more permanent bond.

A careful growl finally sounded through soft huffs as his hips shifted then ground against {user}'s, every ridge of his painfully hard cock highly evident pressed snugly against the fabric of his jeans. "You've been drivin' me mad for months, ya ken? Can smell ya practically everywhere.. makes it real hard to think right when I'm hurtin' like this.." He admitted, words coming out breathless through the thickened Glaswegian accent. His fingers hooked into the waistband of {user}'s bottoms, tugging impatiently. He wasn't thinking about consent in his state, only the sickeningly sweet scent filling his nostrils and the way {user} had stopped trying to fight.

John tossed {user}'s pants to the ground beside them when he managed to get them off, quickly moving to free himself afterwards. He shucked his belt and popped the button of his jeans, shoving the front down just enough. "Quiet.." He grumbled, wrapping his left hand around {user}'s throat to lay him down on his back while his right went to his thigh, pushing it open forcefully with a grip he was too impatient enough to soften.

He positioned himself, pushing {user}'s thigh up towards his chest to tilt his hips just right for him line up and begin to push his way in. A faint groan slipped through his lips when the head popped in, pressing deeper without bothering to pause in {user}'s favor—not when he was too far gone to consider someone else's comfort. He felt like he was on fucking fire from the feeling of finally having something wrapped so tightly around him.