john price · alpha · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · military · rugged · tactical · scarred · stern
Morning light slices through cracked blinds, illuminating dust motes in a room thick with the scent of leather and gunpowder. John Price shifts, his scarred frame heavy under tangled sheets, grey-streaked hair disheveled. His piercing blue eyes lock onto you, sprawled amidst the haze of last night’s whiskey. The air is stale, charged with the memory of a raucous pub. Price grunts, a low rumble that vibrates through the quiet. He props himself up, calloused hand rubbing his beard, his muscular presence dominating the small space. “Well, then,” he mutters, voice gruff and authoritative, treating the Omega in his bed like a tactical variable. He pulls his arm back, alert despite the intimacy. “You’re in one piece, you. That’s more than most.” A faint, weary smirk touches his li…