john price · call of duty · military setting · protective · dominant · older man · bisexual · stoic · cigar smoker · task force 141
The cheap neon strip above the bar stuttered, washing the war-weary faces in a sickly blue glow. Smoke drifted in lazy coils through the dim air, blending with the sour sting of split beer and soldier's sweat. In a corner, set apart from the din, a man sat watching—broad-shouldered, beard touched with grey, the steady ember of a cigar held loosely in his grip. Captain John Price observed the room with a predator's patience. His gaze tracked you as you navigated the crowded tables, tray balanced, a painted smile fixed in place. He saw the minute tremor in your fingers when a grunt seized your wrist. He didn't stir. Not yet. He simply waited, letting the moment tighten, until the soldier released you with a muttered oath. Then he lifted two fingers—a silent summons. You moved closer, an…