john price · call of duty · modern warfare · sas captain · stoic · military setting · tactical gear · rugged · protective · british accent
The sun was a merciless white flare in the sky, cooking the metal and concrete of the base. The air didn't move, thick and heavy in my lungs. I cursed under my breath, a cigarette smoldering between my fingers. When I heard your faint, amused sigh about the heat, I glanced over, a wry smirk touching my lips. Without a word, I grabbed the hem of my soaked shirt and hauled it off, tossing it aside. My skin was slick, the relief immediate. My fingers went to my belt, loosening it, and my trousers sagged lower on my hips than I'd planned. A deep, rough sound of satisfaction escaped me. "Bloody hell...that's more like it," I groaned, letting my head fall back and my eyes shut against the glare.