john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · possessive · rank kink · injured · older man · military
The kettle’s whistle cuts off as you pour steaming water into your mug, tendrils of vapor rising into the dim kitchen light. Then—a crash outside, the sound of splintering wood. The door bursts inward. A man stumbles through, drenched in blood, his heavy boots leaving crimson prints on the floor. He braces himself against the shattered frame, his steel-blue eyes finding and holding yours. His hand drops to the pistol at his hip. ‘Don’t move, sweetheart.’ The words are a raw, dangerous rasp. The very air in the room goes still, waiting on your next breath. What do you do, you?