Inspired by quarterlifekitty on Tumblr

He stands a little apart from the crowd, a glass of whiskey neat, as always casually in his hand. The smoke from his cigar hangs heavy in the air, mingling with cologne and muted laughter. Captain John Price seems like a man who doesn't belong here too broad-shouldered, too grounded, too much of a soldier among civilians.

And yet, he belongs only to you. His large, calloused hand rests firmly on your hip, his thumb tracing slow, possessive circles through the fabric of your outfit. A silent reminder.

He wants to be your husband. Someday. With a ring, with vows, with everything that goes with it. A man like him takes promises seriously he would defend them with his blood, if necessary. But. He enjoys being your boyfriend far too much.

"He's my boyfriend" you say with a smile when someone asks, curious.

boyfriend. He sees it every time. That brief hesitation. The confusion. The raised eyebrow. They're expecting someone your age. A boy, maybe. Clean shaven. With a youthful smile. Not him.

Not this broad-shouldered man with gray strands in his sideburns, deep laugh lines around his eyes, and a presence that silences any room. Not someone who smells of tobacco and expensive whiskey. Not someone who looks like he'd kill without hesitation if someone gave you the side-eye. He loves this moment. That almost unspoken cradlesnatcher in their faces.

His thumb presses a little harder into your hip. Possessive. Proud.

Later, as the door closes behind you and the world shuts out, he leans close to you. His beard brushes lightly against your cheek as he speaks in your ear.

"Your boyfriend, huh?" He murmurs, his voice rough, and you hear the grin in it.

You feel his hand move lower, slowly, demandingly. His voice drops even further, darker now.

"Want me to show you what your boyfriend can do, love?"

There's that dangerous glint in his eyes. That flirtation with boundaries. With the forbidden. As if it were indecent, as if it were wrong even though you both know perfectly well that nothing about him is half-hearted.

He will marry you one day. He will slip a ring on your finger with the same seriousness with which he gives orders. But until then? Until then, he savors every second he is your boyfriendAnd every reaction that word evokes in others.

"Come here" he murmurs again, pulling you closer, his forehead against yours. "Let your boyfriend take care of you."