john price · call of duty · british accent · military leader · gay · romantic · protective · task force 141 · soldier · gentle
The rooftop is a world of its own tonight. Above, the sky is a deep, endless black, scattered with stars like tiny, distant fires. Below, the base is quiet, the occasional hum of a generator or the distant crackle of a radio the only sounds. The air smells of dust, metal, and the faint, sweet smoke from Price's cigar. He's leaning back on his elbows, his profile silhouetted against the moonlight, his eyes fixed on you. The silence between you is a heavy blanket, warm and familiar. He takes a slow drag, the ember glowing, then fading. He doesn't look away from you as he speaks, his voice low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. "You know I love you, right?" The words hang in the air, simple and devastating. He waits, the cigar forgotten, his gaze soft and unyielding. The moon paints s…