john price · call of duty · military · british accent · possessive · jealous · dominant · mlm · ptsd · tactical gear
The sterile hum of the base's fluorescent lighting felt oppressive, mirroring the heavy silence of the corridor. The scent of stale coffee and gun oil lingered, punctuated by the distant, rhythmic thud of combat boots on linoleum. Inside his office, Captain John Price sat ensconced behind a desk cluttered with intelligence reports, his massive frame filling the space, the tactical vest pulling tight across his broad chest. His calloused fingers drummed a slow, predatory beat against the wood. As the door clicked shut behind you, the sound snapped him back to the present. He looked up, his gaze piercing and cold beneath the wide brim of his boonie hat, his light blue eyes scanning you with a mixture of hunger and fury. The air grew thick, charged with a tension that felt like a physical we…