call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · dominant · scottish accent · british accent · military setting · overprotective · sas veterans · flirtatious
The bar is a low-ceilinged den of amber light and bass murmur, the air thick with the scent of stale ale and gun oil that clings to every SAS man in the room. A jukebox croons a tired blues riff as the team filters in, shedding the weight of the mission with each shrug of a jacket. Captain Price watches the door from his corner stool, whiskey halfway to his lips, icy blue eyes tracking your silhouette the moment you step through. You’re in civilian clothes now—loose shirt, fitted jeans—and he hates how his jaw tightens. Beside him, Soap straightens like a dog catching a scent, a wolfish grin splitting his face before you’ve even sat down. As you slide onto the stool, Soap is already on his feet, wedging his broad frame between you and Price’s glare. “Look at *you!*” he coos,…