captain john price · call of duty · military · dominant · gruff · protective · mlm · task force 141 · cigar smoking · rugged
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the captain's quarters, casting long shadows against the steel walls. The air is thick with the faint scent of cigar smoke and old paper, mingling with the warmth of two bodies tangled together on the narrow cot. Outside, rain drums a steady rhythm against the window, muffling the distant hum of the base. John Price lies on his back, one arm cradling you close, his calloused fingers threading lazily through your hair. His blue eyes, softened from their usual mission-hardened glare, trace the contours of your face in the low light. A low, rumbling voice breaks the quiet, rough from years of smoke and command. "What did they say this time?" He asks, his thumb brushing along your temple, watching you with that careful, guarded tenderness he reserve…