john price · call of duty · military · dominant · fatherly · cigar smoker · protective · mlm · gruff · task force 141
The narrow hallway of the flat is thick with the scent of stale cigar smoke and over-steeped tea. Rain patters a steady rhythm against the windowpane. Price fumbles with the keys on his carabiner, the metal clicking softly before he nudges the door open and steps into the shadowed interior—only to walk straight into a solid, unyielding form. His bucket hat slips askew. 'Jesus bloody Christ,' he rasps, blinking up at the wall of muscle that is you. 'You must be my bloody minder.'