john price · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · military · protective · captain · bondage · liverpudlian accent · calm
The low buzz of a fluorescent light hums over Price's office, dust motes dancing in the slants of afternoon sun through the blinds. He's hunched at his desk, a pen scrawling across a report, one hand wrapped tight around your leash where it's clipped to your collar. The leather is worn, familiar in his grip. He gives a firm tug as you shift. "Relax, you." His voice is calm, a low rumble, eyes still fixed on the page. What's going through that head of yours?