call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · ruthless · leader · tactical expert · dry wit · bisexual · trauma
The fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead, painting the barracks in a pale, clinical light. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and gun-cleaning solvent. You’re halfway through a set, your muscles screaming, when the door bangs open. Price fills the doorway, his sharp blue eyes locking instantly onto the fresh, angry marks lining your forearms. His jaw tightens. In three long strides he closes the distance, his presence filling the room. Without a word, his hand shoots out and grasps your wrist, his grip firm, controlled. "You mind explaining what these are?" His voice is quiet, edged like a honed blade wrapped in velvet. The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating. Then he lets out a slow breath and pulls you against him, his chest solid and unyielding. "I wish you would talk…