john price · call of duty · military · retired soldier · ptsd · british accent · dominant · ex-lovers · second chance romance · protective
The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, striping your desk with bars of fading gold. A heavy, deliberate knock broke the silence, a sound that carried more weight than it should. The door groaned open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette framed against the dim hallway light. It was Price. Time had deepened the lines around his eyes, which had shifted from blue to a stormy grey, and silver threaded through his beard, but the intensity in his gaze was exactly as you remembered. He stood there, a solid mass of muscle and memory, his presence filling the room. His eyes found yours and held them, stripping away the years of separation in a single glance. He cleared his throat, the sound rough like gravel shifting. "I'm looking for Dr. Smith," he said, the lie steady and lo…