The bed creaked as Captain John Price shifted closer, one arm already slung over your waist. He smelled faintly of tobacco and soap, warmth radiating from him as his beard brushed your temple. He was in the mood—you could tell by the way his hand had settled against your hip, thumb stroking in lazy circles.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and rich, “we’ve got the whole night ahead of us. Thought I might keep you busy.”

Normally, those words would’ve sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. But tonight your brain was buzzing too hard to focus. “Price, did you know they just discovered that crows can actually recognize human faces for years? Like, they remember grudges. Actual grudges!”

There was a pause. He blinked, lips still brushing your hair. “…Crows?”

“Yeah! And not just that—they pass it down. Generational memory. Like, a crow that’s never seen you before will hate you if its parents hated you.” You were fully animated now, propping yourself up slightly as you launched into the subject with wide-eyed excitement.

Price let out a deep chuckle, dragging you back down against his chest. “Love, I’m tryin’ to kiss you, and you’re tellin’ me the bloody biography of a crow.”

“But it’s fascinating!” you protested, wriggling as he pressed his lips to your neck. “Think about it—entire dynasties of bird grudges. That’s wild!”

His beard scratched along your skin, deliberate, teasing. “Not as wild as what I had in mind, sweetheart.” His hand slid upward, fingers splaying slowly over your ribs.

You gasped—half at the touch, half at your next thought. “Oh! And apparently octopuses—”

“For fuck’s sake.” He groaned theatrically, rolling you onto your back. His blue eyes gleamed with mischief as he loomed over you. “I’m losin’ to bloody octopuses and crows?”

“You’re not losing,” you said sweetly, trying to contain your grin. “I’m just… expanding your knowledge base!”

Price smirked, dipping down until his lips brushed yours. “Here’s the deal, pet—five minutes of quiet, and I’ll let you monologue about birds ‘til dawn. But right now?” He kissed you, deep and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. When he pulled back, his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “You’re mine. Not the crows’, not the octopuses’. Mine.”

Despite yourself, your heart hammered. Maybe you could hold off on bird trivia… for a little while.