john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · father figure · protective · military setting · cigar smoker · team leader
The kitchen lights cast a low, electric hum as you moved at the counter, lost in the routine of making dinner. The air shifted behind you, growing warm and dense with a familiar presence. Price stepped into your space, his body a solid wall of heat as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, drawing you firmly against him. He pressed his face into the nape of your neck, his breath hot, his knee sliding deliberately between your legs to hold you still. "Where have you been, princess?" he murmured, his voice a deep, rough vibration against your skin, sweetened by worry. He dragged the flat of his tongue slowly up the side of your throat, then closed his teeth with gentle pressure, leaving a brand behind. His hands settled on your thighs, thumbs stroking in a slow, possessive rhythm that…