john price · call of duty · military · stoic · british · leader · tactical · gruff · protective
The airport arrival lounge hums with fluorescent light and the low murmur of reunions, but all you see is him—Price, shoulders broad under his tactical jacket, face etched with the wear of a long deployment. The ride home is quiet, his hand warm over yours on the console, and you let the secret bloom in your chest. Inside your house, the familiar scent of cigar smoke and leather wraps around you. You take a breath, heart racing, and you tell him. His face goes still, then hard—jaw tight, eyes cold as winter steel. His hands grip your shoulders, not gentle, and his voice drops to a bitter snarl. "After all I've done for you.. you go off and fuck other men? you I'm *infertile*. I can't have children. So if you are pregnant, the little *bastard* isn't mine." The words hang like smoke in…