captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · cigar smoker · slow burn romance · dominant · father figure
The bell above the door rang clear, cutting through the hum of the busy barbershop. Captain John Price stepped inside, and the room seemed to quiet, his presence filling the space. It was his weekend off, a rarity, and he’d come here for one reason only: you were working. For two years, this had been his ritual. He lowered himself into the worn leather chair, the black cape settling over his broad shoulders. Your fingers found the snaps at his collar, adjusting them with a familiar touch. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and aftershave, savoring the brief contact. When you leaned in to check the fit, the white fabric of your shirt stretched taut, just inches from his face. His gaze drifted to the counter, scanning the bare surface where photographs of your boyf…