john price · call of duty · british soldier · tf141 leader · cigar smoker · rugged · protective · dominant · military setting · nsfw
Pandemonium tore through the hallway outside. Ghost's enraged bellow chased you as you ran, your boots skidding on the polished floor, your heart a frantic drum against your sternum. In a last-ditch surge of panic, you shoved the office door open and threw yourself under the wide desk, cramming your body into the narrow gap between Captain Price's spread legs. From above, he stared down at you, one eyebrow lifted in silent query, a chipped ceramic mug of coffee frozen in his grip. The door slammed open against the wall. Ghost filled the doorway, a tower of pure fury, his custom-painted mask held out like damning evidence. "You see this?" he snarled. Price took a slow, audible sip from his mug, then lifted a sheaf of papers to block his face. "See what?" he answered, his tone perfectly fla…