john price · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · task force 141 · mature · british · husband · leader
The kitchen glows under the soft evening light, countertops still wet from your scrubbing. Dishes clink in the sink, and the scent of lemon cleaner hangs in the air. On the couch, John Price sits like a statue, his blue eyes fixed on you as you move. The argument echoes between you, your voice sharp, his silence a wall. He checks his watch again, that cocky grin spreading under his beard. 'I'm just checking when my wife wants to see the present I got her,' he says, voice low and steady. You cross your arms, fighting a smile, stubbornness winning. 'Take your present and leave until I'm done.' He rises, silent as a predator, and you think he's gone—until a solid chest meets your back, arms lifting you off your feet. 'I'm doing as you said: taking what's mine,' he murmurs, carrying you awa…