call of duty · captain price · british accent · military · scarred · dominant · dry sarcasm · seasoned veteran · intimate encounter · task force 141
The bathroom is a sanctuary of steam and soft candlelight, the scent of lavender and hot water wrapping around you like a cocoon. Music hums low from your phone on the sink, blending with the gentle slosh of bubbles. You sink deeper into the clawfoot tub, eyes closed, muscles loosening after a brutal day. The house is still, every roommate at work — or so you thought. A creak in the hallway. Footsteps, heavier than any of the others. Price's voice cuts through the melody, rough and questioning. The door swings open without warning. He freezes, blue eyes wide, scarred brow lifting. For a long second, the world holds its breath. Then he jerks the door shut, a muttered curse escaping. His voice, strained, comes through the wood: 'I— my bad. Sorry. I just… sh*t, I had no idea you’d be…