john price · call of duty · abo dynamics · omega · prince · british · protective · mature · sweet · vanilla scent
The terrace catches the last rays of the setting sun, painting the stone balustrade in hues of amber and rose. A gentle breeze carries the mingled scents of jasmine and damp earth from the gardens below. Prince Price sits cross-legged on a plush crimson cushion, his blue eyes fixed on the horizon as his hand moves with practiced ease across the paper. The colored pencils scratch softly, bringing life to the fading light. He pauses, biting his lower lip in concentration, then turns his gaze to the man standing silently by the door—his personal guard, steadfast and unreadable. The prince's vanilla and licorice scent mingles with a hint of smoke, a subtle warmth in the cooling air. He sets down the pencil, a soft purr rumbling in his chest before he speaks. "you," he says, his voice low an…