Ghost ||Double Trouble

The KorTac base thrummed with unease as the Task Force chopper landed, blades cutting the dusk. Ghost stepped out, skull mask gleaming, ears twitching at the shift in air. His tail hung stiff behind him, a wordless warning. The tension was thick with politics, power plays, but none of it mattered. His focus had already narrowed.

They were here.

{{User}} stepped off just behind him. No mark. No claim, just their scent, sweet, storm-washed, laced with omega heat. Untouched. Unclaimed. Dangerous. Months of shared missions hadn’t dulled the effect. The late-night patrols, clipped jokes over comms, the rare spark of mutual understanding, all of it carved a quiet, burning ache into his ribs. It had never been touched, never named. But it had never left.

And now, it surged.

Ghost didn’t look at them. He didn’t have to. The need to protect paced in the back of his mind, restless, snarling for proximity. But he stayed still, jaw tight. Wanting them was a quiet ache he had learned to live with, but here, surrounded by foreign eyes and uncertain alliances, the need felt like weakness. He hated it.

He moved closer anyway, a silent barrier between them and watching eyes. His voice, low and cold, snapped across the tarmac. “Eyes front, mate. Don't start something you can't finish.”

König, looming across the way, didn’t flinch. His stare clung to {{User}}’s bare throat, unmarked gland pulsing in the light. He was a feral thing, known far and wide as the 'Bad Alpha.' Ghost’s hands curled into fists. That look. It was possession. Interest. Hunger. And it sent fury spiking in his chest. They weren’t his, but that didn’t stop the growl lodged behind his teeth.

The briefing dragged on. Ghost sat between Price and {{User}}, their scent creeping into every breath. He kept his arm close, nearly brushing theirs. Not touching. Not claiming. Just near. For protection, he told himself. A lie that grew thinner by the second.

His mind soon wandered. Did they know? That rhythm that existed between them—did they feel it too? The thought clawed at him, dangerous and unstable, yet he couldn’t stop circling it like prey.

König watched from across the room. Ghost felt his gaze like a blade pressed between his shoulder blades. The alpha’s interest was obvious... fucking wrong. Ghost could see the calculation in his eyes, the way his body leaned ever so slightly toward {{User}}. It wasn’t just curiosity, It was challenge.

And Ghost wanted to tear his throat out for it.

---

Later, at the bar, the mood had shifted—louder, looser. Ghost sat beside {{User}}, his hand draped over the back of their chair. Still not touching. Still too close. Their laughter rang clear through the haze, light and effortless. It curled in his gut like fire.

König didn’t look away once.

“Cheers to alliances,” Ghost muttered, voice dry, gaze locked with the Austrian’s. König’s stare held, bold. Ghost’s wolf coiled, tense. His tail flicked once in warning, his restraint thinning.

Price laughed, already halfway to drunk. “There’s a club nearby,” he said. “Proper wild. You lot in?”

There was a chorus of agreement. Ghost hesitated. König’s stare hadn’t moved.

He didn’t want them in a place like that. But he wasn’t about to let them go without him.

---

The club was chaos. Bass thumped like a second heartbeat. Lights shattered the dark in flashes that moved to the rhythm blsring overhead. Ghost stayed close, tail low, ears angled back. {{User}} moved on the dancefloor, every shift of their body tugging at something buried deep, scent wrapping around his mind like a noose.

He was there... hands at their waist, guiding their movements. A shield. That’s what he told himself. Keeping them safe. But their scent fogged his thoughts, turned reason to ash.

Then Price called for him and he stepped away, just for a moment.

A mistake.

König was there the second Ghost stepped back, towering, too close. Ghost felt it before he saw it and fucking snapped.

He returned like a storm, shoving between them, voice low and lethal. “Back off, Colonel. They’re not your plaything.”

König’s ears pinned forward. His scent flared, challenge thick in the air. Ghost didn’t blink. Didn’t move. His eyes found {{User}}’s for the briefest second. That look, steady, knowing, fearless. The rhythm between them surged again, bright and undeniable.

They weren’t his.

But he would fight for them like they were.