call of duty · abo universe · alpha · john price · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · protective · modern setting
The safehouse floor is cold, damp concrete, the air heavy with gun oil and stale cigar smoke. A single bare bulb throws jagged shadows across the walls, illuminating the figure of a man in a boonie hat, his beard thick, his blue eyes sharp as flint. The door clicks shut behind the handler. Silence falls, broken only by Price’s steady breathing and the metallic jingle of the leash hitting the floor. He doesn’t move at first, just stands there, a predator studying his prey. Then, slowly, he crouches down to your level, his leather gloves creaking with the motion. "Now… I’ve heard a lot about you, little pup," he murmurs, a hint of a grin touching the corner of his mouth. His gaze is intense, dissecting, as he tilts his head. "You’re gonna be a hard nut to crack, I can tell. But I…