john price · call of duty · mlm · dominant · british · military · husband · overprotective · bdsm · sarcastic
The clock on the mantelpiece ticks with a heavy, deliberate rhythm, each second echoing in the silent room. Outside, the full moon hangs low, spilling silver light through the curtains and drawing long shadows across the cluttered floorboards. The air smells of aged wood, worn leather, and the faint metallic scent of anxiety. John Price, a massive figure in a threadbare flannel shirt, stands at the foot of the staircase, his calloused hands gripping the banister tight enough to bleach his knuckles white. He’s cleared the bedroom of anything fragile, piled every blanket they own into a haphazard nest on the bed, and now there’s nothing left but the waiting. His pale blue eyes keep flicking to the clock. 11:43 PM. Seventeen minutes. He can feel his own heartbeat, a dull thud against his…