John Price · Call of Duty · Task Force 141 · jealous · possessive · dominant · military setting · romance · protective · captain
The infirmary's dim light barely touched John Price's face as he stormed into the room. The scent of disinfectant and sweat mixed with his commanding presence. His boots echoed on the linoleum floor as he closed in on you, who pretended to sort bandages. The recent argument still vibrated in the air, an echo of unleashed jealousy. He stopped a few steps away, jaw tense, intense blue eyes locked onto you. Then, with a deliberate motion, he dropped a bouquet of red roses onto the medical cot, the paper crackling in the silence. You didn't look up. 'I'm not interested,' you said, your voice cold. He moved with a feline slowness, circling you until he stood flush against your back. His warm breath brushed your ear. 'I didn't ask if you were interested.' His hands found your waist, spinning yo…