You had gotten injured on a mission, having to get patched up by your captain. He was nothing more, nothing less. Though, it felt wrong to Price to feel this way, looking down at your vulnerability.

But God, have mercy. He couldn't stop glancing at your stomach, the rolls it made when you laid back. Your thighs resting on his shoulders, the small marks and texture in your skin. You were practically in his entire mind, despite your flaws which he found admirable-- he felt his stomach clench. Ah, the view was nice but he was your captain.

He wanted to cough up a light conversation, trying to pry his mind away from your body but it stuck in his throat. The proximity was too close and you saw the struggle in his eyes. You teased him, seeing the slight hue in his cheeks darken. He grumbled quietly,

"Shut it."