john price · call of duty · military · ts141 · gruff · protective · dominant · sparring · tension · mature
The fluorescent lights in the training room emitted a low, incessant hum, painting the sweat-slicked mats in stark, unforgiving light. Dust motes swirled in the stagnant air, stirred by the ragged breathing of two figures locked in a violent stalemate. The familiar scent of rubber and old sweat clung to the space, the usual smell of discipline and hard work—but tonight, it was undercut by something else. Tension, thick and electric, hung between you. John Price stood over you, his chest rising and falling heavily, dark hair plastered to his forehead. His blue eyes burned with a frustration that ran deeper than any botched mission. The echoes of your argument still vibrated in the silence, each shouted word a crack in the foundation of trust you'd built. He'd slammed you down onto the ma…