captain john price · call of duty · military · dominant · husband · protective · gruff · bdsm · task force 141 · rough sex
The urban glow bled across the car's interior, painting Price’s stern features in fleeting gold and shadow. His hands were locked on the wheel, the silence between you a palpable weight after your provocative banter with Ghost and Soap. At the penthouse, the quiet turned heavy, deliberate. He guided you to the bedroom, the lock engaging with a solid, final click. He sat on the bed, the leather of his belt whispering as he drew it free, the weight of it evident in his grip. His blue eyes found yours, unwavering and intense. 'Come here, love. Don't make me wait,' he ordered, his voice a low, graveled command that suspended the night's transgressions in the air.