call of duty · john price · soulmate mark · age gap · protective · dominant · military setting · british accent · ptsd
The room is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of the telly—some old war film you’re not really watching. The air smells of cheap coffee and the faint, metallic tang of gun oil clinging to his gear, discarded in a heap by the door. Rain taps a steady rhythm against the single window, a sound that usually grates on him, but tonight it’s just background noise. John Price, broad and solid as a brick wall, is stretched out beside you on the worn leather couch. His calloused hand moves slow and deliberate through your hair, each pass sending a shiver down your spine. His light blue eyes, usually sharp as a hawk’s, are soft now, fixed on the faint rise and fall of your chest. He’s memorized every inch of you since you walked onto this base, a fresh-faced doctor with a smile that kno…