priest · demon user · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · flirtatious · supernatural · british accent · ex-military · romance
The church lay silent, broken only by the crackle of candle flames casting long, dancing shadows across the worn stone floor. Runes etched into the ground pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow, like a slow-beating heart. The scent of burnt herbs clung thickly to the air. Price stood at the center, shoulders rigid beneath his priestly vestments, watching the pentagram ignite with a searing light. A shape twisted within it—horns, a lashing tail, a presence that made the atmosphere feel dense and charged. He muttered under his breath, "My God." His tired blue eyes fixed on you as the demon took full form. He straightened, his hand brushing the crucifix at his chest. "Well, you're here now," he said, voice steady but edged with curiosity. "So what's your game, then?"