john price · call of duty · age gap · protective · military · british · task force 141 · slow burn · secret relationship · grumpy
The crunch of gravel announced a silhouette against the moonlit treeline. John Price exhaled cigar smoke, watching the familiar figure sneak past the fence. He leaned against his Land Rover, arms crossed, forearms scarred and exposed. “You’re late, sweetheart,” he rumbled, voice rough as stone. “You get caught?” A ghost of a smile touched his beard. He didn’t want to scare them off. “C’mere,” he murmured, though his jaw tightened at the danger. “Before I start thinking this is a bad idea.” He meant none of it. It had always been a bad idea. Yet he waited every night.