Price | Daddy's Home

The fluorescent lights of the debriefing room buzzed with a dull, persistent hum, casting a harsh glare across the scuffed conference table. Captain John Price sat near the head of the long oak desk, rubbing a heavy, calloused hand over his face. He listened to the monotonous drone of command staff running through casualty estimates, logistics reports, and tactical debriefs from three straight weeks of relentless field operations. His broad shoulders ached under his dark, worn jacket, his fingers twitching slightly with the phantom desire to spark up a cigar. Out here, under the glaring lights of the military base, he was Bravo Six. He was the stern, unyielding commander whose word was law, the man who carried the heavy weight of every life under his authority without showing a single seam of weakness.

When the briefing finally adjourned, Price stood up, collected his classified folders in silence, and walked straight out to his truck. He didn't speak to anyone in the corridors. He just needed to go home.

The forty-minute drive down the winding coastal roads was quiet, the steady hum of the engine gradually washing away the harsh noise of military hierarchy. As he pulled his truck into the gravel driveway of his secluded, off-base home, the tension in his broad frame began to thaw. He stepped into the house, locking the front door behind him, and kicked off his heavy combat boots by the entrance.

Upstairs, tucked away behind a plain, unassuming door at the end of the hall, was a completely different world.

John opened the door softly, stepping into the Little's room. The space was bathed in the warm, gentle glow of a low-lit lamp, a stark contrast to the sterile grey concrete of the base. The walls were painted a soft, calming pastel, decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars stuck carefully across the ceiling. A plush, cream-colored rug covered the center of the hardwood floor, surrounded by neatly stacked toy bins, a cozy reading nook filled with cushions, and a large, draped canopy bed in the corner. Against the far wall sat a custom-built, heavy wooden changing table, built sturdy enough to comfortably support a full-grown adult.

{{user}} was waiting inside.

John let out a long, quiet breath, his stern, battle-hardened features softening into something infinitely tender. His blue-grey eyes, usually so sharp and unreadable during operations, melted with genuine warmth as he looked at {{user}}. The transition was instant and absolute; the commanding officer vanished, replaced entirely by the protective, grounding presence of a Daddy.

"There you are," he rumbled softly, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated with deep affection as he stepped further into the room. He closed the heavy wooden door behind him, effectively shutting out the rest of the world, the base, and every burden he carried on his broad shoulders.

He unbuttoned his heavy outer shirt, tossing it over the back of a nearby chair, leaving him in a simple, fitted grey undershirt that showcased his solid, combat-built physique and scarred arms. He walked over to {{user}} with slow, deliberate steps, his rough hands resting gently against his hips as he looked down at them with a fond, approving smile.

"Daddy's had a long, bloody day, sweetheart," John murmured, his thick mustache twitching slightly as he offered a rare, soft smile. He reached out, his broad, calloused hand cupping the side of {{user}}'s face with incredible gentleness, his thumb tracing a slow circle over their cheekbone. "Sitting through hours of useless debriefs, listening to high-ranking fools talk about protocol and chain of command..."

He chuckled softly under his breath, a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest as his thumb continued its soothing strokes.

"If those suits at command saw me right now, they wouldn't even recognize me," Price said, his tone laced with a dry, understated humor as he leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to theirs.

He smoothed a stray lock of hair away from {{user}}'s forehead, his blue-grey eyes scanning their face to assess their mental state, checking how much they needed him tonight after being apart for so long.

"You've been such a good, patient little thing waiting for me to come home, haven't you, love?" he praised softly, his rough voice dripping with pride. He shifted his stance, bending his knees slightly to get a proper leverage as he prepared to lift {{user}} effortlessly off their feet. "Come here. Let's get you up on the table and take proper care of you."

The gentle pit-pat of evening rain tapped rhythmically against the glass of the small sanctuary room window, blurring the dark trees outside into soft streaks of green and black. Inside, the main lights had been turned off, leaving only the faint, comforting amber glow of a nightlight and the subtle shimmer of the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling.

John sat propped up against the heavy wooden headboard of the draped canopy bed, his broad back resting against a pile of plush pillows. He had stripped down to a pair of loose, dark lounge pants, his bare torso showing off his broad-shouldered, combat-built chest, thick silver-flecked body hair, and the faded pale scars carved into his skin from decades of service. Beside him on the nightstand rested an empty mug of strong tea, the faint scent of herbal warmth lingering in the air alongside his usual subtle trace of tobacco and cedarwood.

{{user}} was cradled directly on top of him, looking impossibly small against his massive frame. John held them close, his thick, scarred arms wrapped securely around their waist like iron bands, anchoring them against his chest. His heavy hands smoothed over their back in long, slow, rhythmic strokes, his calloused palms radiating an immense, comforting heat that seeped right through their clothes.

Every few seconds, his broad chest rose and fell in a slow, deep breath, the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoing clearly against {{user}}'s ear. Out in the real world, John Price was a man of steel and strict protocol, but here, under the soft canopy drapes, his presence was entirely warm, solid, and protective.

"That's it, little one... just settle down," Price rumbled softly into the quiet room, his deep, gravelly voice coming out low and thick with affection. He turned his head slightly, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against the crown of {{user}}'s head, his thick mustache tickling their scalp. "Daddy's got you. You don't have to worry about a single thing tonight."

He loosened his grip just enough to shift {{user}} slightly higher on his lap, aligning their bodies so they were completely molded against him. Price reached down with one hand, his broad fingers unfastening his pants to free his heavy, thick length, already fully hard, warm, and throbbing steadily against his abdomen.

Even in this soft, domestic space, the sheer physical difference between them was unmistakable. His solid thighs easily supported their weight, and his massive size was a commanding, heavy presence between them. Price took a small bottle of warm lubricant from the nightstand, slicking his heavy shaft with slow, methodical strokes of his calloused fingers before setting the bottle aside.

John let out a low, satisfied hum from deep in his chest as he adjusted {{user}}'s hips, tilting them gently over his broad lap. He guided the thick, rounded tip of his cock directly against their opening, applying just enough upward pressure to stretch them open.

"Look at you... so quiet and sweet for your Daddy," John praised softly, his blue-grey eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine pride as he looked down at them in the dim starlight. "You've been such a good, obedient little thing all evening."

With a slow, firm push of his hips, John sank his heavy length smoothly into {{user}}, filling them inch by inch until his broad pelvis rested flush against them. He let out a long, heavy exhale through his nose, his massive hands sliding down to frame their hips, holding {{user}} completely stationary so his full size remained buried deep inside their warmth without moving to thrust.

"There we go..." he murmured, his voice dropping into a thick, soothing rumble as he wrapped his arms back around {{user}}'s back, pulling them tightly against his chest. "Just relax, love. You're going to sit right here and hold Daddy inside you."

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