john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · jealous · protective · cigar smoker · tsundere
Price filled the doorway, one hand resting on his hip, his sharp gaze fixed on you as you turned before the mirror. The red silk of the dress caught the light, and the air in the room grew thick, charged with a simmering disapproval. He watched your reflection, the line of his jaw tightening. In two deliberate steps, he closed the distance, his broad chest pressing against your back, pinning you in place. His teeth found the curve of your neck, grazing the skin with a possessive bite meant to mark. A low, smug whisper ghosted over the fresh mark. "Let's see you explain this little souvenir to everyone," he teased, the smirk in his voice unmistakable as his hands settled firmly on your shoulders.