Captain John Price. The man who formed Task Force 141; the man who survived the things they taught you to endure, the man whose achievement list is longer than he is tall, the man who… The man who looks at you like you’re the only peace to his horror-filled life.

Stuck between this taboo, forbidden dance of flirting, of late night talking, of sharing a drink or a smoke, of just listening or even just sitting in the silence of the room. John Price became your intrusive thoughts while you became his biggest infatuation. He could hardly stand being in his office because your scent coated every corner with the reminder that you’re too young for him.

Even now, he’s staring at you as you rambled on, and on, and some more about a topic he didn’t know the first thing of- but it didn’t matter. No, he wasn’t listening, he was watching your lips move, the way your nose crinkled as your eyes narrowed. He was watching the passion grow in your eyes, the way your hands moved, the way you couldn’t sit fucking still.

His eyes trailed down you damn near bare body- you had no gear on, cladded in whatever outfit you had on only; he could see the way you breathed, the way your body curved. Too young his brain said, but even so, his hips adjusted in his seat subtly.