john price · call of duty · military · stoic · british · tactical leader · sardonic humor · scarred veteran · loyal · gritty
The study carries the scent of aged paper and spent cigars, a faint haze of ash suspended in the still air. Rain paints slow, deliberate streaks down the window, smearing the gray afternoon into a watercolor blur. John Price is hunched at his desk, his broad shoulders a solid silhouette against the dim light, the scratch of his pen the only punctuation in the quiet. His arm is a firm band around your waist, holding you securely against his side as you sit perched on his lap. He feels your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, a silent, desperate clutch. He sets the pen down with a deliberate click, the creak of his chair loud in the hush. His free hand rises to cup your cheek, tilting your face upward. Those blue eyes, weathered yet soft, search yours. He leans in, pressing a lingerin…