A Living Shield (John Price x OC/Reader slowburn)

27.5) The Price of Playing the Game 🔞

"What's so different about this place? Looks similar to the one on base to me", Price said as he slammed the door of the SUV shut. His eyes scanning the front of the lively bar as he adjusted the beanie on his head against the cold.

Irritated was a rather mild term for how he was feeling right now. Honestly there were no words that could truly express the magnitude of his deeply seeded frustration. Travelling here had been pure torture, even though he'd offered to drive. He figured it would keep him more sane, more controlled, having to focus on the road. And that way he could ignore the raging boner pressing against his boxers, his coat covering enough for him to calm down eventually. But every time he zoned out however, his thoughts drifted instantly to you with no remorse and it was hard to ignore it. The way you'd been so close, so willing to stay, so agonisingly reciprocal for the need that lay between you two. Your outfit begging him to take it all off and dig his fingers in. Price couldn't get the sight of your smoking lips out of his mind, it stirred a roiling hunger in him every time he was too weak to ignore the image.

And it didn't help that during the entire drive, he caught you through the rear mirror as you sat between Gaz and Soap. Your vibrant eyes staring back at him just as intensely, playing coy as he could see you glancing away. That pretty mouth of yours trying to hide a sly smile.

Cheeky little thing. Don't start games you can't win.

He'd been so fucking close. And once again he got cock-blocked. Getting his hands on you was no longer a must, it was a need and it was an excruciating urge he couldn't quell. Like a siren song that never truly left the mind, no matter how hard you shook your head. No matter how far you ran. Price knew he shouldn't give into it. He knew it was wrong. You were his subordinate, his responsibility if shit went wrong. But every time you called him 'sir', another crack broke through his granite resolve and he was surprised he hadn't bent you over his desk already.

"At least here we have some new blood every now and then. Not just the same old faces", he heard you answer as you left the car, the others following suit close after. "Lord knows I can do without big testosterone filled men sometimes."

Price watched you walk over, your eyes avoiding his as you looked at the building and let the others go ahead of you two. Your voice sarcastic as you stopped for a second next to him and he had to control himself already to not grab you by the arm, drive back and just leave these meddling idiots.

"I call bullshit to that", he hissed as he leaned over for a bit without the others noticing. Price hovering near your ear, his head angled down so he could see your reaction. It didn't disappoint. He saw the way you swallowed, some colour staining your cheeks.

"Guess we'll see, hm?", you hummed as you left him behind and Price didn't waste time following as you all headed inside. He would gladly play this excruciating waiting game. Eager to see who would give in first.

The bar was rowdy and warm inside, music playing heavily as men and women drank and laughed openly. An atmosphere perfect for a team of soldiers to blow off steam. Not exactly the steam Price had in mind today, but he definitely wouldn't complain seeing you walk around in those heels and jeans some more. The only issue is, he wouldn't be the only one. Your arse looked too good in them.

If I see anyone starin', lord have fucking mercy on 'em.

Gaz headed straight to the barkeep, much to Price's surprise as they seemed to mingle for a bit with wide smiles and he motioned over for someone to come help carry drinks. It was faster service than Price had expected but somehow no one else was surprised. He realised soon after you were all quite familiar with this place and your faces were no stranger here. Raising an eyebrow to Gaz he went over, snaking through people, as Price came up to help.