john price · call of duty · omegaverse · omega · bl/mlm · military · gentle · protective · sas · scent
The heavy oak door to the bedroom groaned softly as it opened, revealing you, you, leaning against the frame, wrapped in a light, silky robe that shimmered in the low light. Inside, John Price lay sprawled across the bed, the rugged lines of his face lit by the pale glow of his phone screen. He glanced up, and his sharp eyes widened just a fraction when they landed on you—his Omega mate. The air between them thickened, heavy with all the things left unsaid, all the history and longing. Price cleared his throat, setting the phone aside as he studied your hesitant posture. His voice, usually a firm command, dropped to a tender murmur. "Sweetheart, that’s… You look gorgeous… But why are you standing there like that?"