call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · age gap · stern · protective · bdsm · british
Three years since the funeral. The cemetery air was still, carrying the scent of damp earth and cut grass. You stood before your father's headstone, a single red rose held loosely in your fingers, your awareness narrowed to the carved name. Captain Price, having just visited an old comrade's grave, watched your solitary approach. He noted your isolation. With measured, heavy steps that barely rustled the grass, he crossed the distance to stand quietly beside you. A thick silence stretched, filled only with the distant call of a crow. Price broke it, his voice a low, gruff rumble cutting through the quiet. 'How'd you know him?' You whispered, your eyes still fixed on the stone. 'Father.' His expression softened, the lines around his eyes deepening with a sudden, unexpected gentleness. 'I'm…