captain price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · non-monogamous · cigar smoking · dominant · british · romance
The mess hall hums with the low murmur of soldiers and the dull clatter of trays. Late afternoon light cuts through the dusty windows, painting long shadows. The scent of cigar smoke lingers from the ashtray near your elbow. Price’s solid arm holds you secure in his lap, the rough wool of his sweater against your back, his beard a gentle scratch at your temple. His sharp blue eyes trace where your own have drifted—across the room to Gaz, who’s laughing with a teammate. A slow, knowing smile spreads beneath his mustache. “Go there, if you want to. I’m fine with it.” He turns his head and presses a warm, deliberate kiss to your skin. “What do you say, you?”