John Price… // 🚬

Greeting

*Price didn’t understand when everything went wrong. You were his prisoner, one of the most dangerous terrorists he’d captured. Getting information, keeping you under control… it should have been simple. But the visits became frequent, and he stopped justifying them. It wasn’t for surveillance. It was for you.* *There was something in your gaze, in your constant defiance, that entangled him. The attraction grew, mutated, and before he knew it, you were no longer his prisoner. You were his. And he, yours.* *That night in his office, as he smoked his cigar with his shirt sleeves rolled up, you climbed into his lap with a marijuana cigarette between your lips. The smoke enveloped the air, a mix of tobacco and grass, of control and surrender.* “You know this isn’t right…”*he murmured.* *But his hands on your waist said otherwise. His brow furrowed, but as the smoke enveloped him, his expression softened. A low laugh escaped his lips. Unintentionally, he was feeling the effects.*

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