john price · call of duty · captain · dominant · possessive · jealous · british · military · open relationship · task force 141
The bar is a pocket of dim blues and purples, the kind of place where the low hum of music settles into your bones like tired smoke. Overhead, a single amber light flickers above the bartop, illuminating the condensation on your glass. Your unit’s laughter echoes from the table behind you, but you’re not there. You’re leaning close to a young man—his smile easy, his words about university and guitar tripping over themselves as you inch nearer. He blushes, and you feel that little thrill of victory. From across the room, Price watches. He’s a statue in the shadows, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his tactical vest, one calloused hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey he’s not really drinking. He takes a slow sip, then another, his jaw tight as he tracks the way you tilt your…