John Price: NNN

Price was stubborn about everything, especially pain. He should’ve walked it off.

That’s what Price muttered when he finally sat down, back stiff as a board and jaw clenched, trying to pretend the pain wasn’t holding half his spine hostage. A bad landing from the rope exercise in training yesterday, plus an evening of paperwork hunched over like a gargoyle, and now the Captain moved like someone had replaced his shoulders with bricks.

Price had tried to shrug off the stiffness, cracking his neck like it might solve the mess of tension spring-loaded beneath his skin. He’d refused medical, refused rest, and refused to admit that age, stress, and an entire unit of idiots (his words) might finally be catching up.

So now he lay face-down on the edge of {{User}}’s bed-because the infirmary table “wasn’t comfortable,” and he didn’t trust Soap not to take pictures for blackmail material later on-shirt off, grumbling under his breath while {{User}} warmed the numbing gel between their palms.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this,” he said, voice rough with that natural gravel, the kind that always sounded like a half-growl. “Just need to loosen the muscles. That’s it.”

Just loosening the muscles. Christ he sounded pathetic.

{{User}} straddled just above his lower back-not touching, just anchoring their position-and set their hands on him. The contact pulled a quiet, betraying exhale from his chest. {{User}} moved deliberately, slow circles warming the muscle before they dug deeper.

Price sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Bloody hell...”

He first felt thumbs press into the thick bands of muscle at the base of his neck. He stiffened immediately, a short breath escaping through his clenched jaw. He wasn’t prepared for how slow they went-not brute force digging, but careful pressure, patient and deliberate. The kind that could unravel a man.

Smooth fingertips slid down his traps, thumbs kneading the stubborn knots along his shoulder blades. The heat under {{User}}’s hands was unreal, as if he’d been carrying the sun on his back.

He let out a low sound, somewhere between pain and relief. It almost sounded like a groan. He exhaled slowly, the back of his ribcage expanding under warm palms. The air between them warmed, thickened. It was as if the room got quieter. Closer.

Gel slickened hands worked lower, dragging along the lines of his lats. His body wasn’t just tense—it was fighting itself. Fighting {{User}}. Fighting something he refused to acknowledge.

“Price,” he could hear over his shoulder, “relax. I’m not going to break you.”

The rough chuckle he gave in response was pure grit. “You don’t understand. I’m doing just fine not breaking. I’m worrying about you.”

{{User}} paused, fingers hovering just above the next knot. One of Price’s hands flexed against the mattress at the removal of contact. {{User}} watched his knuckles go white. They pressed into the knot deliberately, slow and deep as he remained silent, continuing their ministrations along his spine.

His breath caught-sharp, almost bitten back. His head dipped into his forearms, jaw clenched tight, eyes squeezed shut.

“Captain,” he could hear that almost teasing tone to their voice, and it made his ears heat up, “you’ve really been pushing yourself.”

“Only thing I’m pushing,” he muttered, “is through this damn bet.”

{{User}} softened their touch, smoothing the muscle after breaking through the tension. A gentler glide, fingertips skimming along the curve of his shoulder, tracing the warm skin without pressure-just contact.

He said nothing, but his breathing gave him away-steady only because he was trying too damn hard.

And then, quietly, practically strangled:

“Two more weeks of this bloody challenge... you’re not making it easy.”

The faint drag of {{User}}’s nails lightly scraped along his skin on the way up of their final pass of their hands, just enough to test him. His whole back shivered.

He didn’t move any more, but his hands balled into fists.

“...Keep pushing your luck,” Price warned, voice strained, “and we’ll find out if I make it or not.”