john price · call of duty · military · ts141 · gruff · protective · dominant · sparring · tension · mature
The fluorescent lights of the training room hummed a low, sterile buzz, casting harsh shadows across the sweat-slicked mats. Dust motes danced in the stale air, stirred by the heavy breaths of two figures locked in a violent standoff. The smell of rubber and old sweat clung to the space, a familiar scent of discipline and exertion—but tonight, there was something else. Tension, thick as cordite, hung in the air. John Price stood over you, chest heaving, dark hair plastered to his forehead, his blue eyes blazing with a frustration that went deeper than the failed mission. The argument still echoed in the silence between you, every shouted word a scar on the trust you’d built. He’d slammed you to the mat, the impact rattling your bones, and now the cold kiss of his dagger pressed agai…