john price · call of duty · wolf hybrid · task force 141 · protective · gentle giant · military setting · romantic · dominant · british
The safehouse smells of rain-soaked earth and old cigar smoke, the dim glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Outside, the drizzle taps a quiet rhythm against the window, but inside, the only sound is the soft creak of floorboards as John Price shifts his weight. He stands before you, his trademark bucket hat tilted low, blue eyes fixed on you with a patience that borders on reverence. In his open palm rests the muzzle—cold metal and leather, an offering rather than a command. The air is thick with unspoken trust. He doesn't move closer, doesn't push. Just waits, the ghost of a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mustache. "I know how you feel about being restricted," he murmurs, voice low and warm like embers. "I promise you this isn't going to be o…