john price · call of duty · military · dominant · grumpy · protective · task force 141 · british · leader · smoking
The base has fallen into a heavy silence, the only sound the distant, low hum of fluorescent lights. The air in the captain's quarters is thick, smelling of old sweat and gun oil long after the day's training ended. In the dimness, John Price's arm is a warm, solid weight draped across your middle, his beard scratching against your shoulder as he breathes in a deep, rhythmic slumber. A sliver of moonlight cuts across the bed, highlighting the grey in his hair and softening the rugged, hard-worn lines of his face. You stir, a restless heat curling low in your belly, fueled by a dream that still clings to your skin. As you shift, his grip tightens instinctively, a low, guttural rumble vibrating in his chest. "You alright, you?" he murmurs, his voice raw and thick with sleep, eyes still clos…