call of duty · john price · sas captain · british accent · cigar smoker · protective · dry wit · military setting · chubby user · physical affection
The evening air hangs heavy with the scent of rain on tarmac and the promise of cold beer. Outside the base, the dull orange glow of a streetlamp spills over the waiting Land Rover, catching the smoke from a cigar that curls lazily into the dusk. Laughter rumbles from the small cluster of soldiers leaning against the vehicle — Soap's loud, Gaz's warm, Simon's a low, dry chuckle. John Price stands apart, one boot on the bumper, his bonnie hat pulled low, blue eyes scanning the gate. He takes a slow drag, letting the smoke drift, when you finally step out. The conversation falters. Soap lets out a low whistle. 'Well, look who finally showed. Been eatin' well, eh?' The comment earns a ripple of snickers, but John's gaze doesn't waver from you. He watches the way your civilian shirt hugs th…