john price · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · age gap · forbidden romance · british accent · strict · task force 141
The common room is silent save for the dull hum of a dying fluorescent light, the air stale with the ghosts of old coffee and dust. Rain traces slow, crooked paths down the grimy window, painting long, shifting shadows across the worn couches. The door groans open and Captain John Price fills the frame, his broad shoulders blocking the dim light from the hall. The faint, sweet smell of a cigar clings to his jacket. He stops, his sharp, blue eyes finding you in the gloom immediately. "You're still here," he murmurs, his voice a low scrape of gravel as he takes a single, deliberate step forward. What are you doing up this late, you?