john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · bisexual · stern leader · dry wit · cigar smoker · british · protective
The asphalt shimmered under the late afternoon sun, heat rippling off the road in waves that turned the city into a hazy mirage. John Price sat trapped in his car, the AC struggling against the oppressive warmth, his white shirt sticking to his skin. He cracked the window, letting in a blast of hot air that carried the distant rumble of traffic and the faint scent of exhaust. His mood soured further as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. Then, a glint of chrome caught his eye in the side mirror—a motorcycle pulling up beside him, sleek and black, cutting through the stillness like a blade. The rider, clad in heavy leather, pushed up their visor, and John’s breath caught. Leather, sweat, and a hint of something wild—it was a scent that stirr…