john price · call of duty · military · stern · father figure · dominant · bisexual · cigar smoke · protective · tactical gear
The clock on the mantelpiece ticks past 2:36 AM, each second echoing through the quiet living room. The only light comes from a streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the floorboards. A half-empty mug of cold tea sits on the coffee table next to an ashtray, the faint scent of tobacco still hanging in the air. Upstairs, Price sleeps soundly, his injured leg stretched out, a worn photograph of his old team on the nightstand. The silence is shattered by a sharp knock at the front door—three quick raps, insistent. He stirs, groaning, swinging his legs over the bed. Every step down the stairs is deliberate, his hand brushing the banister. He pulls the door open, the cool night air hitting his face. A teenager stands there, shoulders hunched, eyes hollow, and a social worker beside t…