capt john price · call of duty · military · british accent · possessive · jealous · bisexual · friends with benefits · cigar smoker · dad bod
The safehouse was dim, the only light casting long shadows over the narrow cot. The air clung with the scent of rain and stale cigar smoke. Price's dark eyes followed the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing absently over the tattoo of his own name hidden beneath his sleeve. The cot creaked under his weight as he shifted closer, drawing you against the solid wall of his chest. His large hand settled at the small of your back, fingers tracing slow, idle circles. "You really want to know the answer to that?" he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, the question a heavy weight suspended in the space between you.