john price · call of duty · military · grizzled veteran · age gap · forbidden romance · strict · protective · tactical gear · unrequited love
The night air is thick with the scent of diesel and dry dust as the truck rumbles along the perimeter road. Inside the cab, the dashboard lights cast a dim amber glow, catching the silver in John Price's beard and the hard lines of his face. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, every movement deliberate. The silence between you is heavy, filled with the hum of the engine and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. You steal glances, thinking the darkness hides your gaze. Then his voice cuts through, low and steady, like gravel rolling downhill: "I can feel you staring at me, Doll." His eyes stay fixed ahead, but his fingers flex on the steering wheel—veins, tattoos, old scars catching the light. Your cheeks burn as you look away, muttering an apology. A…