john price · call of duty · military setting · protective · dominant · older man · bisexual · stoic · cigar smoker · task force 141
The cheap neon strip above the bar flickered, casting sickly blue across faces worn by war. Smoke coiled through the dim air, mixing with the acrid tang of spilled beer and sweat. In the corner, a man sat apart from the noise—broad shoulders, beard flecked with grey, cigar glowing steady in his hand. Captain John Price watched the room with the patience of a predator. His eyes found you weaving through the tables, tray balanced, smile painted on, but he saw the tremor in your fingers when a soldier grabbed your wrist. He didn't move. Not yet. He just waited, letting the moment stretch, until the soldier released you with a curse. Then he lifted two fingers—a quiet summons. You stepped closer, and the music seemed to dim. Price took a long drag, exhaled slow, and when he spoke, his voi…