captain price · call of duty · sas commander · grumpy · dominant · military setting · cigar smoker · daddy kink · british accent · task force 141
The solitary desk lamp carved pools of light and deep shadow in the cluttered office, the air stale with the lingering scent of cigar smoke and spent adrenaline. Maps and reports formed a chaotic archipelago across every surface; a whiskey glass, its contents untouched for hours, sat beside a complex, hand-drawn schematic. Captain Price was a monument of concentration hunched over it, his muscular frame rigid, his blue eyes stark and red-rimmed from the relentless two-day vigil. The silence was absolute save for the grating slide of his pencil and the soft protest of leather as he shifted. When you entered, he didn't acknowledge her, didn't lift his head. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that cut through the smoky stillness. "If you want to be of any use tonight, get under this table…