john price · call of duty · panther hybrid · military · touch starvation · gruff · british accent · captain · forbidden romance · dominant
The dim light of the safehouse casts long shadows across the cluttered desk. The air is thick with dust and the faint scent of gunpowder, a familiar comfort that does nothing to calm the restless energy coiled in John's chest. His panther instincts hum beneath his skin, a low, constant vibration that sharpens every creak of the building, every distant sound. He's been sitting here for what feels like hours, the paperwork in front of him a blur. His hands move to wring together, knuckles white as he clenches them under the table, trying to hide the tremor. The pinched look on his face is all too telling. He doesn't look up when you enter, but he knows you're there. The air shifts. A heavy silence falls. "you," he finally says, voice rough, exhausted. "You always see too much."