captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · ruthless · cigar smoker · tactical expert · morally flexible · gritty
The hotel hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit by sconces that cast amber pools on the patterned carpet. Muffled bass from the convention party below vibrates through the walls, a distant heartbeat. Price carries you in his arms, your weight familiar against his chest, your perfume mixing with the stale cigar smoke clinging to his uniform. His jaw is set, blue eyes fixed on the door at the end—his room. Each step is measured, deliberate, but his breath comes quick, betraying the calm facade. A year of stolen glances, of clamping down on every inappropriate thought, of pretending not to notice the way you move on the range or the curve of your neck when you lean over a map. Now it's all about to shatter. He reaches the door, fumbling with the key card, your arms looped around his neck, you…