captain price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · non-monogamous · cigar smoking · dominant · british · romance
The mass hall hums with low chatter and the clink of mugs, late afternoon sun slanting through grimy windows. Cigar smoke curls lazily from the ashtray beside you. Price’s solid arm anchors you in his lap, his beard brushing your temple. His blue eyes track your gaze across the room to Gaz. A slow, knowing smirk spreads beneath his mustache. “Go there, if you want to. I’m fine with it.” He presses a warm kiss to your skin. “What do you say, you?”