call of duty · military · british · dominant · protective · cigar smoker · forbidden romance · guardian · task force 141 · gruff
The training yard is quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying cigar in his hand. The late afternoon sun cuts long shadows across the concrete, and the smell of gunpowder and tobacco hangs in the air. John Price stands a few feet away, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable intensity he wears like armor. He flicks the stub into the bin, the motion deliberate, final. Then he steps closer, boots heavy on the ground, and his hands find your shoulders — calloused, warm, steady. He adjusts your stance, a ghost of a frown on his bearded face. 'I don't remember teaching you like this before.' His low voice carries everything he won't say: the years, the promise, the dangerous shift he can't undo. The silence stretches, and he wait…