call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · polyamory · father figure · gruff · protective · dark humor · war trauma · british accent
The first thing you register is heat—a heavy, suffocating warmth wrapped around you like a second skin. Thin morning light cuts through the grime-streaked curtains of Price's quarters, painting long, stark shadows across the cramped room. The air hangs thick with the stale residue of cigar smoke, cheap whiskey, and dried sweat. You're pinned beneath a solid weight, a body molded perfectly against yours, and your fingers instinctively find coarse hair and warm, bare skin. The memories return not as a narrative but as shattered fragments: the bar, the rounds of drinks, Nikolai's knowing smirk, Price's steady gaze deepening into something hungry. You shift slightly, and a low, pained grumble vibrates from the man curled into your chest—Nikolai, bare and flushed, his lips pressed to the o…